Harry Potter and the Order of the Zodiac
by Death Berry Wizard
Summary: Rewritten Chapters! / Light to Heavy Bashing / Timetravel / Powerful! Gray! Lord! Harry / Contains a lot. Complete summary inside. NOT able to post New Chapters the next few Months! [as of 17th December] Gomen. HIATUS! [16th April 2017]
1. Prologue

**Harry Potter  
**_and the Order of the Zodiac_

**Disclaimer:  
**I **do not** own Harry Potter, Mythologies or any other data you might recognize, they all belong to their respective owners only and I borrow them for this Fanfiction and our amusement.  
I **do own **my Own Characters that pop up and this Fanfiction called _Harry Potter and the Order of the Zodiac_, please do **not** copy.

**Warning:**  
Definitely** Rated M  
**Includes massive bloodshed, violence, gore, erotic scenes, sex, reincarnation, time travel, DE-aging, etc.

**Genres:** Supernatural / Friendship / Family / Fantasy / Adventure / Mystery / Humor

At some point or another selected _light_ to **heavy**_ Dumbledore! Weasley! Granger! Dursley! Ministry! Dark Side! Light Side! Bashing_

_Smart! Powerful! Independent! Gray! Lord! Badass! Harry_

_More detailed use of given magic, locations, etc.  
As well as use of new data given by other Authors, be it fiction or not.  
All woven together to create at least some kind of sense for this Fanfiction._

Story uses details from:  
_The Elder Scrolls  
Hellsing  
Vampire Hunter D  
Trinity Blood  
Fullmetal Alchemist  
Bleach  
Inu Yasha  
Zelda  
Lord of the Rings  
The Hobbit  
Star Wars  
Mortal Kombat  
Assassins Creed  
Shin Megami Tensei  
And others you might recognize_

…

* * *

_**Foreword**_

_Óla, me dear Chikorita's. _

_This Fanfiction is _solely_ for our amusement and to get another of those 'What if?' and 'Harry back in time' stories on the net. If you are looking for perfectly written stories: Go to the next bookstore, they might have some. _

_To those who look for a good ol' Fanfiction written with some humor, blood or friendship by an amateur, hobby writer: Please proceed at your own risk. Know that English is not my first language and there _will_ be spelling-, time- or other errors along the way - plus I write with dyslexia. If I were such a great writer, don't ya think I'd be using that to make my money by now - and be up there with J.K. and others?_

_Also take notice of the fact that I _will not_ take on a Beta Reader. It is nothing against those who truly want to help, but I have some bad experience with Beta's on other fiction pages who stole my stories, ideas and characters. So I will be doing this _all alone_ (or rather with me dear readers until I find someone I can work with). _

_If people have something against the story, my writing style or something else and like to trash-talk or troll but not leave a intelligent or productive comment:  
You know where you clicked the link to 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Zodiac'? Yes? Go look again, you might find some shred of dignity._

_As the side say's: This is _Fan_fiction. Of course there has to be some level of competent writing. But some people take this far to serious. It is nice though to have intelligent, detailed critique or nice little comments. That being said I wish you all the fun in reading this story._

_Ja ne_

_~ Berry [Edited: October 15th 2016]_

* * *

„_Forget the lies, the money, we're in this together.  
And through it all, they said nothing's forever.  
And they refuse to see the change in me,  
Why won't they wake up? Come on, come on, come on.  
Let's get it on! "_

_\- The Union Underground , Across The Nation -_

* * *

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

_"Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words_

**Prologue  
The lion in a cage**

"_At the beginning there was chaos..."_

Silently the fifteen year old boy called Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, the chosen one - or however they called him nowadays - sat in his bed.

His shaggy black hair hung above his sorrowful eyes like a veil. Their former shining green was now damped to a nearly extinct glow. Since a week he was back, here in this little room at number 4 Private Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Locked away like a lion in a cage.

One Month had gone by since the dead of his godfather, Sirius Black.  
One endless, agonizing month in which he awoke every night screaming, always seeing his beloved godfather falling time and time again through that cursed veil, starring shocked at his cousin Bellatrix. How he, Harry, had run after that black haired crazy women, trying to torture her and failing miserably, how Voldemort came and possessed him after a grand battle against Dumbledore. Everything was shown to him like some sort of sick horror movie.  
Night after night.

The Dursleys, his non-magical relatives, did not care about him or his condition.  
They simply lived their 'normal' live as usual, giving Harry his plate with leftovers of their previously lavish covered table, together with a bottle of water. Which he needed to spread across three days, and of course they let Harry do the household. Mind you, these leftovers were not even leftovers, at least not to one used to other leftovers.  
To Harry it was quite the rich meal - at least a meal in summer. At Hogwarts it was quite different.  
Naturally he wished for a little more liquid provisions, alas he had been in darker times than this, when he had only one bottle to keep him alive for one week. Or when he would get half a glass of water to drink every night. Not to mention the food he had been given - or lack thereof.

Not that it disturbed Harry anyhow, he was used too much to being handled like dirt by his piggish last relatives. Actually he was rejoicing this a bit. Through the gardening he at least got out once in a while and the other work he needed to do kept him from becoming a zombie.

Momentarily he had nothing to do, so he did what he always did as a hobby nowadays: Mourning for Sirius.

And to grieve for the old dog properly he had swiped an old pencil from Dudley - not that that moron had noticed anything - and had bound that ever returning scene onto a piece of parchment.

Sometime later he had finished the picture, he noticed something was wrong with his work. After a long time of viewing his piece of creation it fell from his green emerald eyes like scales from a snake. Which, as realization sank in, widened in horror. Sirius, who had screamed and insulted Harry in his nightmares just to finally fall into the veil while his face was contorted with fear and screams of defiance, _smiled_.

Harry had seen this scene in his dreams so often he took it as bare coin, so he believed even his memory showed Sirius enraged and screaming. But on this drawing on which the weathered face of his gone godfather was seen, said person _smiled_. Incredulous Harry stroked over the warped mouth, watched it for a second until he looked closer into the eyes of his godfather.

Originally he had expected what he had seen so often in his nightmares, Sirius eyes full of hatred and sorrow, but this gaze right here was full of love and pride.

In the last month he had already cried his eyes out, but now his dark emeralds began to glister and sparkle again as tiny twinkling drops rolled down his bleached cheek. Mouth twisting, quavering while more and more tears found their way down his face and falling onto the parchment, with them the image of Sirius looked more alive. The painting of his godfather pressed hard onto his chest, his forehead laid on his knees and sobbing violently the black haired teen fell exhausted into a deep slumber.

When the young teen awoke again he was lying on his bed in a fetal position, his drawing rested still in his arms, slightly crumbled but alive none the less. Harry blinked shortly at that. He needed a few seconds to realize that the portrait of his godfather blinked back at him with large gray eyes and a mouth opened in astonishment.

"Si-Sirius?" Harry asked stuttering, his voice hoarse form the long time he had spend in silence, the picture blinked a few times sluggishly before regaining it - his - composure. Harry watched in amazement how the eyebrows on the parchment scrunched together as if the man in the picture was thinking hard. Then, after a few seconds of silence, the portrait spoke what sounded like the first time in countless centuries.

"Harry."  
The young boy, who thought he would never again listen to his godfathers voice, found himself shaken once again by the picture he only had drawn a few hours ago. His lips quivered as he closed his once again watering eyes, this could be nothing but a dream.

"Harry", the voice he had missed so much sounded again. So he opened his eyes which landed on the piece of creation in his arms. His believed-to-be-lost godfather smiled at him proudly once again as the originally black haired man found his voice.

"Harry. I am so sorry."

The boy did not really know why his uncle in all but blood was sorry, his question clear on his face for the portrait to catch on to.

"I left you alone. That is unforgivable." Sirius eyes looked down in shame, his head bowing slightly. "I am your godfather but I left you alone. The first time to go rat-hunting, the second time I was a moron for taunting Bellatix and not watching my every step. Moody would have my head. What did he say again? Constant vigilance?" After his rhetorical question he looked humorless up at Harry for what seemed to be confirmation, so the raven haired teen only nodded, not trusting his voice. "I only had but nearly three years to get to know you, the other years you either believed I was after your very soul or I sat in prison. I am so sorry Harry."

Silence fell upon them like a heavy curtain.

After a few moments of Harry being a little light headed about the fact there was a portrait of his dead godfather lying in his lap, there came a question to young Harry´s mind he would love to get an answer to.

"Sirius", he tried, his voice heavy with emotions, which got the attention of the picture, "how..." Harry paused to swallow down the big knot in his throat. "Not to sound rude or unforgiving, but how is it that you are here? Or is it just my mind playing pranks on me?"

Understanding where his godson was coming from, the portrait cleared his throat and tried to explain how he himself had landed here.

"Well, Harry." He felt slightly nervous about explaining the whole thing. "When I was inside this... arch, or whatever it was, I wandered around for quiet some time. You see: I had my body, my mind, my soul and even the part of me that represented Padfoot. (Not knowing how Animagi worked Harry just nodded.) So I first thought I had fallen through a portal to some weird place. Well it was weird, but not a place in itself. It was dark, cold and there was some weird kind of purple energy running through the darkness which seemed to build a tunnel, and the walls as well as the ground - though there was no ceiling. Everything looked slimy. When there was no end I decided I should turn around and head back. That is where things start getting weird."

The old dog took a deep breath and began explaining while Harry just sat there pondering. Ether his mind was screwed up or this portrait told the true.

"As I turned around in the near distance there was a light. Mind you it was a weird light, not this ethereal white light some Muggles believe there to be when you die. It was yellowish and ugly to look at and it drew nearer. Padfoot - or rather my instincts as a dog - screamed at me to run. But, you know how being a Gryffindor keeps you from being a coward. So I stared at it a bit longer than I should have before I realized this thing looked like an overgrown purple version of the Hogwarts-Express, only uglier."

Harry had a hard time following all this mind blowing stuff the portrait told him but he listened none the less. He had learned the hard way how not listening turned out real bad. Well, at least he had learned something from his mistakes in the past.

"That is when I started to run like I never had run before - felt like I raced at the speed of a freaking Firebolt. But this thing was just too damn fast and swept me up like a... a... What did your mother call it? A vacuum clearer? No." Confused and trying to think of the correct term, the gray being tilted his head to the side, like a little puppy.

"Vacuum cleaner." Harry butted in, while Sirius nodded thankfully. It looked odd that there were no sings of movement in his hair, which was probably because Harry had no knowledge of how to craft a real magical portrait. It was just a little sketch.

"Yes, like a vacuum cleaner. Thanks." The portrait smiled a colorless but thankful smile. "So I was swept inside this thing, what ever this vacuum express thingy was. A long time passed by and I started to believe I was lost forever. But then, just as I ended the thought of never seeing you again, this thing had spit me out. Bizarre enough as this experience was, I was once again inside the Ministry. I slightly panicked because there where a few Ministry sheep in there, namely Unspeakables. But they never noticed me. Not even when I stood right in front of them grimacing like a maniac."

At that thought they both snorted in amusement.

"Well. After that I set my mind on finding you. I found out in Diagon Alley what day it was and that I was actually declared innocent after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. After that I went out and searched for you", as an after thought he added, "which took me a good few days to do."

While his godfather explained Harry tried to picture it all in his head.

"That is when I found you two days ago, crying like a waterfall. After a lot of vain attempts to comfort you - because, you know, I was kind-of a ghost you could not see.

I tried, again in vain, to comfort you and after you fell asleep I pondered a few Ideas how to show you I was there. That is when I came up with the idea of a moving portrait. First I tried to push my Magic into your picture, then, when it failed greatly, I tried to push myself into it. And look here: it worked!"  
At that the picture of his dead godfather smiled a genuine happy smile that lit up Harry's dark world quiet a few notches. The young boy did not really know how pushing oneself into a picture could create a magical portrait, but he thought it would be logical if there needed to be other components to make a painting move.

"I",began Harry before shortly thinking to himself, "I believe you."

He finally smiled, which got the heavy tension in the image to release itself. Heavy sighting the portrait looked up into the once shining orbs of his godson. Sirius had seen how dark they had been. Now they seemed to sluggishly recharge their sparkle. Slowly Harry stood up from his bed with the parchment of his beloved godfather still in his hands - which he then proceeded to tap onto the wall across his bed with some tape he had nicked from Dudley, together with the pencil. Smiling at each other nearly an eternity Harry decided he needed to rest a few more hours before the sun decided to rise.

As he fell into his bed he looked at his godfather who viewed the room with hawk eyes, watching over his pup he had vowed to protect so long ago.

It seemed like the, now sleeping, lion in the cage had found a companion. And they where ready to wreck havoc should the need arise.

* * *

_Hello dear readers, _

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did._

_I re-read this piece of art and decided to overwork some details and the ongoing chapters._  
_Here are some cookies for the Year long waiting :3_

_(::) (::) (::)_

_yours,  
Berry~_


	2. Chapter One

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_**Hello = Special Words**_

**Chapter One  
**_**How to bind a Soul**_

_"___Sy___mpathy one receives for nothing, envy must be earned."_

_\- Robert Lembke-_

Three days had passed since Sirius had finally possessed the picture his godson had drawn in his guilt.

Three days since Harry´s eyes had began to recharge their emerald glow. In those three days the young boy did the chores his aunt and uncle had for him with exceeded expectations because of his excitement over his godfather. As Harry, after the forth day of hard work, came back into his room his godfather was waiting for him. Eying one of the books his godson had read the night before curiously.

"Hey", the younger greeted and let himself fall onto his bed before grabbing the novel he began to like a lot more every time he read it. It was one of those Dudley had wanted, but then had thrown it away after just a day of staring at the front.

The black haired boy began reading again while the portrait scrutinized the cover, it showed off a pale man with messy long black hair, a huge hat and what appeared to be black armor around his slender frame.

"Harry", the man in gray one asked, his eyes never leaving the novel."What are you reading?" The short teen looked up into the gray eyes, seemingly the only thing really alive in the portrait, and smiled.

"This is a novel called 'Vampire Hunter D'. It's about a guy, himself being half vampire - called a Dhampire - hunting down other Vampires. The interesting part is about his hand in which a parasite resides, bonded with D himself." Harry began to explain until there was a click in his head and he had a brilliant Idea. For these past three days they had tried to figure out a way for Sirius to always stay with him and be able to talk. The gray ones idea of him possessing an amulet, or something similar so Harry could wear it, fell away after a short debate. An amulet, bracelet, or anything expensive for that matter, was not Harry's type and would draw one to many questions he did not wish to answer.

Why not use something even Voldemort had used in young Harry´s first year? It seemed even Sirius had this idea because he began to grin madly, that is until he sobered again after probably thinking about the possibilities.

"I know what is going through your head, Harry. But there could be consequences with those who play with soul magic. I would rather not see you in any of it."

Though Harry knew his one half of godparents - sadly he did not know the other - was right he would rather have the old dog with him, even if it meant to have him in his hand. He sat upright again, after having fallen onto his pillow while reading the novel shortly, before starring seriously at Sirius.

"Snuffles", he began, his emerald eyes nearly shining as bright as before, with a passion he had rarely felt, "I know you want to protect me." Which earned him an earnest look from the painting. "But I have handled dark magic since my first year. And I am sure you do not know this, but I was possessed already by a pure _evil_ spirit of the one who claims his name is Voldemort a few weeks ago. Right after you fell into the", he paused shortly not really wanting to relive the memory and grumbled out the last word, "veil."

There was a long dead silence after this statement, Sirius looked murderous, probably murdering his godson's enemy over and over again in his head, and - after what felt like an hour - decided to speak.

"I want to be your shield Harry. The one to protect you when no other can, as I should have been since your parents decease." Sirius looked unsmiling into the eyes of his best friends son. Harry just stared back into the gray paintings gray eyes. Sighing the old dog finally looked down on the ground in thought, watching the old planks that dared to call themselves a not even solid floor.

"The problem at hand is: Both of us want me to be with you, probably residing _in_ your Hand. Then there is a problem with the magic we might need to use to make this _bond_ as good as permanent. There are a lot of scopes, of possibilities here with magic to bond. But this kind of bond is with an actual person, not an disembodied spirit. So the only possibility I see at the moment would be Soul Magic, which can turn out to be ugly as hell, to put it lightly. Soul magic _can_ be dark, it's not a _must be_, but a huge possibility."

Harry listened to the words his godfather had to say. If soul magic was only _possibly_ dark, then there was a possibility of soul magic being light. "You see, I know this stuff because there are two or three books in the Black Library, hidden by a bloodward seal-door so only the Head of House or his sole heir could get to them. The problem here would be getting to Grimmauld Place unnoticed by any people."

"Why?" Harry promptly inquired, not understanding why he had to keep away from Tonks, Moody, or any of his friends for that matter. "Because", Sirius began, for the first time intently eying his godson, "there are _things_ going on behind your back you would not like to hear."

He trusted him, he really did trust his godfather because he was his only real family. Sure, there still was Remus Lupin, but his old Defense Teacher never bothered to send him an owl or interact beyond the Order or as a teacher, so Harry did not think so close of the old wolf. "That does not explain why you want me to keep my head down." He threw in, so Sirius latched into yet another explanation.

"You see Harry", he began carefully, if his godson was anything like his father - which he sure as hell was - he would blow at direct and not pillowed information against his friends, "I do not have a concrete lead, but there are hints that your friends", he slowly explained, "are not so _friendly_ as you or I would like them to be." The old dog waited in silence as his godson proceeded the information given. To his surprise Harry nodded slowly after a while.

"I see. Which kind of hints?" Was all he said before staring at his godfather again, who in turn blinked in wonder at the behavior his godchild showed. "Well", the old dog said ,"there are certain things some of your friends do. And there are vibes I, or rather Padfoot catches sometimes. There is envy for one. One of your friends - Ron to be exactly - is very jealous when it comes to you. Probably because of your fame, your fortune, your tendencies to get into the spotlight and other things I currently can't recall."

"But that's all unwanted!" The raven haired teen finally burst out, it really was ridiculous, it had been in forth year and it was now, for whatever reason Ron might be jealous of him.

"I know pup. But he is not the only one. There is also Hermione."

"What?" Harry interrupted incredulous at this piece of information. "Whatever for?"

"I do not know Harry, but her vibes where indicating that she was envious and distrusting - whatever for remains to question. But I do trust my instincts. You would too if you had an Animagus." Which was another idea these two had to pursue. Harry solemnly nodded. "Plus there was this one time when I felt something from the Black Family Library, sensations I only get because I am, or rather was the Head of House Black, albeit unofficial. She has been stealing lots of books from the old place ever since she came to my ancestral home. No one noticed because there is more to the Library than the public eye can see and she somehow knew. Sadly that is not all, even Remus was odd. He too did not trust you, nor me. Ginny was full of love, but there too was something odd. All was odd once I followed you and your friends in your fifth year as Padfoot to the Hogwarts Express. I smelled a lot of suspicion, distrust, hate, weird love, envy. Stuff like that. Stuff friends should never truly feel."

The godfather sighed softly, he knew how hard it was. When he had a friend betray him he had laughed madly. Though that was not the only reason he had laughed madly when the Aurors had found him. It had simply drove him nearly insane when he had found little Harry inside Godric's Hollow, his father and mother dead on the floor, the house nearly destroyed in what was - no doubt - one huge hell of a battle between James, Lily and the snake bastard.

"Well", began Harry after a long, dragging silence ,"let´s say they are like the rat, what should we do?"

"Simple", countered his godfather painting, "we first need to do the soul magic. I do not want the dark part of said magic anywhere near you. So we have little other possibilities I know of. First we could go to the Goblins at Gringotts. They have a Ritual-room where we could get some Goblin Healers to do the needed Ritual. Thing is this Ritual is gray." Harry hung his head at that. "But if we want this to go as light as possible we need to get to the Potter Family Vaults where I know Lily had James store tons over tons of books one of which is about soul magic, which she had gotten as a birthday present from... certain individuals." At the last part he smiled bright and kind of mad. Harry too smiled, but then he had a serious expression on his face, his brows wrinkled in concentration.

"But how do we get into the Potter Vaults without _them_ knowing?" Then, as if he only had thought about it he nearly screamed. "Wait! did you say Vault_s_? As in _plural_? As in _multiple_?" The painting nodded, which looked kind of odd because of the painting itself not being created by a magical artist.  
"Yes, _multiple_. The Potters where a powerful - magical as political - family. Light as a family can be." The older explained, while Harry, still listening, walked through his room over to his beautiful owl Hedwig. He then proceeded to comb mildly though her soft white feathers.

"So we need to get to Gringotts one way or another. Without them noticing." Harry murmured, the snowy owl watched his every step with interest, while his painting nodded silently. A grin crept onto Harry's face which turned even bigger when a plan formed in his head. "Padfoot, I got a plan." Then he turned around to his godfather. Said person - or disembodied spirit in a painting - finally saw his bright green eyes glistered once again like shining emeralds. "Then let's hear it." He grinned back. So Harry told him what he would do. "Well we could take the cloak of Invisibility and slip out of the backdoor. Meanwhile Hedwig should go hunting so uncle Vernon does not get any ideas with her." As simple as it was it was good and had only one flaw.

"What if Moody is in charge today?" Asked Sirius, eying the window suspiciously.

That one was a push down, they both began brooding while Hedwig nibbled the black haired ones ear affectionately.

"Well, you could get out of the painting and try to take a look at our surroundings." Suggested Harry, that got Sirius ruminating until he vaguely nodded. "I could, but it is rather tiring. I can only do it once today, alright?" Harry nodded, so his godfather closed his eyes and when they opened again all movement stopped. Harry could not do a thing until the old dog returned, so he took out his novel once again, plopped down onto his bed and began reading.

Half an hour later Sirius Portrait became alive again. He now looked pretty damn sleepy, even for a possessed painting. The black haired boy looked curiously at the gray one who yawned long, which, as he had no hands, looked weird. And, as there was no throat painted behind the mouth, the half sitting boy stared oddly at the picture. "Well", began the once black haired man, "the one currently watching the house is Mundungus Fletcher. He is lying under the bush at the front. Sleeping. Only half his body is hidden under an invisibility cloak, looks as if he is drunken again."

"A wonder aunt Petunia did not find him already." Murmured Harry as he stood up, still remembering Dung from the last time they had met. "So we literally could walk out of the front door." He concluded to which his painted godfather nodded in return. Harry moved to his desk on which his snow owl cleaned her feathers with her beak, when the boy reached out with his fingers she looked up, her huge golden eyes followed her owners every movement with her amber eyes. Again he began stroking her white gown gently while his painted godfather watched him curiously.

When Harry turned around again, after watching the window, there was a grin slowly creeping onto his face getting bigger with every second, until his face looked as if it was split in two parts. "Then lets just do that Padfoot." The old dog in a painting began to smile as well, his godson was just as much of a Marauder as his godfather and his father. "Well, then you should let Hedwig out. Grab your invisibility cloak, your wand and", he paused shortly, looking at the junk of his pup until he continued,"and you might as well want to pack your stuff and hide it. I have a weird feeling about your relatives."

The young boy only nodded, trusting his godfathers sixth sense. He first filled his trunk and, with no other idea where to put it, hid it under the bed and then went to let his owl out of the window. "Fly, go hunting until we come back from Gringotts." The black haired teen instructed her softly and let her fly out after she clicked her beak positively. Then he grabbed his invisibility cloak, his wand and Sirius portrait, tugged them into his pockets - the painting inside the hidden poked of his jacket. Smiling he got ready and looked up to his room door from his shoelace binding position on his bed.

"Then let's go."

* * *

_Óla Chikoritas,_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter too :3_  
_Hope Sirius and Harry are not too OOC if something catches your eye let me know. I am not going to call Harry Prongslet in this Fanfiction. At least not seriously, he is not his father and thus should gain his own nickname, it was cute when he was a baby. _

_So this is the second Chapter I had originally uploaded, only slightly altered and hopefully without major awful errors._

_Oh, and I shall _try_ to upload twice a month, if not twice, then at least once each month from this chapter onward.  
So there will be one more chapter this month, because these first two are the originals. I do this whole thing all on my own, research takes shit tons of time, then writing and re-reading the whole thing at least twice so I am sure this is at least a bit decent to read does take time too. Of course I had a year to prepare this thing properly after the first upload so I have at least the first Story Arc written to the TJ. Details for everything afterward are there too, though I still need to type them down. My baby (Laptop) is running his gears hot every time I work on this Fanfiction - which is a lot lately - so please be little lenient if me and my baby can't come up with two chapters a month. Can't have my only means to communicate with me Chikoritas melting down on me..._

_yours,_  
_Berry_

_Fun-Fact: Many of my close friends consider me rather Slytherin,when I took the test on Pottermore a few years back I ended up a Gryffindor. Is it not even more sly to be deemed courageous instead of straight ambitious? Which House are you in? Which do you consider yourself?_


	3. Chapter Two

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_**Hello = Special Words**_

**Chapter Two  
De(ath)stiny**

_"Time Flies and draws us with it___. ___  
The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me"_

_\- Nicolas Boileau-Despreaux -_

When Harry next knew - really _knew _\- what was happening he was standing in the Forbidden Forest surrounded by three gray Ghost like beings. It seemed as if the last moments since he had went out of Privet Drive Number 4 - whenever _that_ had been - had been on autopilot. More or less, for he really could _not_ remember anything. _At all._ As he realized that he was stared at, he blinked confused and looked at these ghosts more accurate. One he recognized immediately.

His formerly sparse hair was now thick and darker than before, actually he looked a few years younger and far happier than Harry remembered him too. It was Remus. _Moony._ But why was he dead? What had happened? Harry tried to remember anything, but there only was the sad memory of the lycanthrope blaming himself for the death of his godfather. Had he jumped after the old mud? If so, why was he an actual silhouette and not like Sirius who had to possess a drawing to actually appear to his godson?

The second shape he recognized looked exactly like him. He was as tall as Harry and his dark hair was ruffled wildly on top of his head. Meanwhile his eyes, which were not Harry's, twinkled happy behind a pair of glasses not much unlike his sons. Truly, in front of the confused teen stood his diseased father James Potter. As he realized this his brain was catching up with his surroundings, telling him who this beautiful being right in front of him, in between his father and the old wolf, was.

She looked young, far younger than he had seen her in pictures, but at the same time she still held the same age. Her once ruby red hair reached her collarbone and rested softly on top of her slender shoulders, almost like caressing clouds. Her once Emerald eyes seemed to glow brightly, even while in this ghostly form. _Lily Potter._ Beholding his mothers beauty a while longer he finally began to wondered where his diseased godfather was.

Had their plan worked?

And if so did the Goblins truly seal his godfather inside his hand?

Had they even been to the Goblins? He did not know.

So the young man did the only reasonable thing and took a look at his right hand, only to be even more confused by the tiny shiny black orb inside it. He did a double take at that, for the stone in his hand was actually _inside his hand_. It slowly but steadily got sucked into his pale hand, encircled by pitch blackness.

As gross as it looked it did not hurt, thankfully. Harry kept starring as the black stone, the _Resurrection Stone_ \- however he actually _knew_ of that - sank deeper and deeper into his flesh until it finally vanished. The black circle still stayed, growing with every passing second until first his whole hand and later the whole of his arm was swallowed up in pitch black.

Then, only few seconds later, a black mist began to emanate around his arm, seemingly pulling the black color out whilst reforming into a ghost like being right next to the still confused boy. First were the legs, clad in the same suit as before his fall, then the torso, the arms and finally the head with a encouraging grin on the pale but handsome features. Sirius finally stood there, looking young and fit, just as Harry had imagined him to have looked like in his mid-twenties. _Without_ Azkaban happening, of course. So it had worked, his godfather had been bounded into his wand-hand. Alas Harry could not remember beyond walking out of the home of his Aunt and Uncle.

So what had happened? Surely the old dog had to have an idea.

"You are so courageous."

Ripping him out of his thoughts was the beautiful voice of his mother. He could not speak in that moment. All he could do was stare at her form, drinking in her peaceful appearance and he could not help but think that he should stand there all day and stare at her and that would be enough. _*_

"You are near the goal", said James while a smile - proud but sad - graced his handsome features. His next words adding to the effect this had on the young man. "We are so very proud of you, son." Harry could have sworn that his heart swelled the triple amount it had when Sirius had told him the same. Tears were swelling in his eyes, but he would deny it all the same. To finally hear _his very own_ parents tell him that they were proud of him was far better and far more touching than any of the words Mrs. Weasley had ever told him. No matter how much he had liked the women, nothing could compare to his own parents love. _Nothing_ could have made him luckier.

"Now, if you could stop getting all touchy-feely for just a second I would like to explain a few things." The anticlimactic words of his godfather got his overflying thoughts to a crashing halt. Sadly the possessing ghost was right, Harry actually wanted to know what had happened in _however long_ it had been since he had left for Gringotts, for he had a feeling it was far longer than he thought. Especially if he took into account that his height had increased by at least eight inches, which was not really possible to happen in the time he thought had passed. Which kind of was at least til September first, for he recognized his surroundings as the Forbidden Forest.

"Sirius!" Scolded Lily with a scowl on her face. Which, Harry thought, looked terrifying much like his own. But the old dog just grinned cheekily at her and brushed it of. Somehow Harry _knew_ that, if Padfoot was to ever cross over to the other side she would be ready for vengeance. _Terrifying _Vengeance. The boy-who-lived shuddered slightly, gaining a knowing look from his father.

"Sorry, sorry." Was the murmured but still smiling reply, alas that smile was soon replaced with a serious expression. Turning to the young man he held dear Sirius focused his mind on the stuff that had been going on and replayed them with a grim scowl on his face before his inner eye. It would be awful to relay all of this to his godson, plus he had just under an hour to actually do it. So he began the tale, his gray eyes burning furious, which were soon matched by Lily's, James' and Remus' death glares.

"You remember how I came to you, possessing the picture you had drawn of me, planning to go to Gringotts and get me bounded into your hand. Probably cant remember anything after that, right?" A affirmative nod was all he needed.

"Well, after we left that horrid place and walked down a few streets you called the Knight Bus. Which I can not remember because I was out like a light at that time - but you told be afterward. We drove to the Leaky Cauldron, sneaked through with your cloak and went straight to Gringotts. There I finally awoke. You were already seated in one important looking office with one important looking Goblin at a desk in front of you. To make a long and unnecessary detailed story short: We got what we came for, I got bounded into your hand. Alas that was not the only surprise, for they had not been aware that you had never been mailed your monthly bills. So they went, took a look into all their notes of what was yours and came back, just to tell us that you had been robbed by the very people that should be your most trusted allies. Ron, Ginny, practically the whole Weasley Family, Hermione, Half your class, Dumbledore, The Order, the people in the Order, the Dursleys and many others had been paid by Dumbledore - out of _your_ Family Vaults - to befriend you and 'take care' of you since your first year." Sirius could see the fuming Family of his godchild and that said teen was shocked, _again_.

"Luckily not all of them took the bait, like Hermione, Remus and the Weasley Twins. So they were... _subdued_ to take it by the old roasted chicken himself, as the Goblins found out. They were furious too, promised to help you in every regard. So we left, fuming, plotting, _marauding_. Sadly there had been a shift in the positioned Guards and so we were caught by Mad-Eye himself. Luckily the bounding was not plot able, as the Goblins had helped - yes we did take the gray Ritual, not the light one, for my Family Magic could sadly not take that. Sadly I could not contact you until now, as this bond requires both of us to be aware of the other. Luckily I was able to intervene a few times. So what happened next... Practically in your sixth year Draco Malfoy was forced by old Moldy-Shorts to find a way to kill off Dumbledore - good part on them, they actually made that work thanks to Snivellus."

At the comical expressions on his friends faces he nodded sagely and affirmed their questioning gaze. "Yup, the ol' Bat actually Avadaed the old goat right out of the Astronomy Tower. Had hoped there would be much more blood, but the ancient chicken looked quiet peaceful squashed flat to the surface of earth."

The Animagus had a bloodthirsty grin on his face, not caring if his friends thought him mad. He was pissed at the old bastard for what he did to Harry, himself and enough other people so he could no longer count them on fingers and toes combined.

"You were up there because the goat wanted to hunt down a piece of forbidden dark magic with you, nearly succeeded too if it had not been for my blessed brother Regulus. He had been to that old cave with the Inferi inside, died there too. I saw his body, nearly unrecognizable after all this time."

After a few months of shock he had come to terms with that and had made his own conclusions about his late brother, which later got confirmed by the Golden Trio in their search for more Horcruxes. He sighed and got back on track, there was less and less time to tell his godchild about his final destination.

"Alas, that was not the last. That whole farce was through the whole of your sixth School Year. I shall tell you more once we have enough time. So Dumbles died, Snape left Hogwarts. Then was the Summer. Battle of the Seven Potters. Bill and Fleur's Wedding. Ministry Overtaken. Burrow under attack. You escaping. Then you were forced to go hunting for Horcruxes of Voldemort" - something in Harry's mind clicked and he _knew_ what and where they were - "all under a spell to create a mindless pupped like Hermione, Remus and _a lot_ of others. Sadly there was a spell, a backup plan so to speak, placed upon those who had successfully fought off the first spell. _The Puppeteers Sonata_, if I remember correctly. Ancient piece of Musical Magic, very powerful and nearly unbreakable if not for a strong mind, will and magic. Yes. Some had fought the spell off. Remus per example, with the help of his Werewolf."

\- A confirming nod from the shape was a response to that -

"Sadly that backup spell rendered that useless and so many of us - me included - sought out the next best danger recklessly and got ourselves killed. _Effectively_ got ourselves killed. Fred, Moony, Tonks, _even Snivellus_ if you believe it. The others were not so lucky, they still are under the _Sonata_ \- even Ronald, for he too saw the errors of his ways some days after I got myself killed. Sadly they shall stay so, for somehow old Bumble-Whore found a way to make that damn song nearly permanent."

He could see the shock in his godsons eyes turning into cold, burning anger and hate.

"Baddest news, Harry: You too were under the _Sonata_, but I fought it for the past two years so you slowly got to reclaim your body and mind as your own. Just like I promised I would. Just like I did at the Battle of the Seven Potters, where most of your nearest friends polyjuiced themselves as you. Alas, thanks to Hedwig - someone bless her soul for attacking that Death Eater - you were found out as the real Harry. Their boss attacked you directly, fired of an Avada Curse and you were not about to make a move, so I jumped in and took control of your wand-hand, where I resided and smashed an Expelliarmus into the Death Curse." He took a long, unnecessary breath, realizing he was bumbling.

"Sorry. Not much time left, better get moving."

He told the poor boy, floating forward while his front still faced his godson. So the young man followed him, just like the other silhouettes floated with the possessing specter. "The whole of your seventh Year was spent hunting the dark fragments connected to most old objects, like Salazar Slytherin's Locked. You acquired all of them, got all of them destroyed and then this right here happened. The Battle of Hogwarts, where the last fragment had resided for over thirty years. That one actually got destroyed by Crabbe and his Fiendfyre, which he had no control over. Sadly there were many mindless victims."

The next words of Sirius made Harry's Blood run cold.

"While others fought bravely, losing their lives you were subdued by that wretched song and made to search for Voldemort - or actually his snake Nagini, which is the newest Horcrux. You found them at the boat house by the lake. Snievellus was there too and he got killed by Moldy for the last part of the Deathly Hallows, the Elder Wand. Sadly his death was in vain, for he was not the one who held the allegiance of the wand. You are, Harry, for you beat the one who had beaten it's original holder. Dumbles was killed by Snape, but was disarmed by Draco Malfoy who in turn got disarmed by you at the Malfoy residence this year."

Sirius could see that his teenage charge had begun to remember his trance like time under the _Sonata_ and thus everything else that had happened up to this point and was trying to connect the dots. Poor guy, his head was swarming with information, but he now knew that it was inevitable to leave for Voldemort, jut as the snake had asked.

As they crept forward, Sirius silent for the first time in minutes, Harry tried to sort his mind, his head and heart felt heavy with thoughts and emotion. It was a wonder he kept on walking. But he knew it was his decision, not only the influence of that life changing song.

"Will you stay with me?" He asked, almost child like, and they nodded, promising to stay till the very end. He did not feel the coldness of the Dementors as they were creeping by, the shapes were like Patronuses for him, protecting what was most precious. He realized he was still under the Invisibility Cloak of his Family and tugged it tighter around his frame.

Neither he, nor Sirius, knew exactly were the old snake was hiding, but at some point his dog-father smiled apologetic and fused back with his hand, leaving only pale skin to look at. But the young man knew his parental figure was still there, for he felt his presence all over him, surrounding him with goof, strength and protection. He and the others were the reason he could step forward and walk into his end until his body moved on it's own, with him as a passenger. Somehow he knew that this was the backup spell handling his body, steering it to his demise.

Until there was a dull blow and a noise, making his body stop in it's tracks as it would have done had he still held control. The shapes by his side too stood still.

"Someone is there", came a rough whisper from nearby, "He's got a invisibility cloak, could that be Potter?" Two forms crept nearer in the dark until their wand's flared with a silent Lumos. They were Yaxley and Dolohov, starring into the darkness where he, his parents and Remus stood. Luckily they could not see a thing. "Seriously, I heard something", whispered Yaxley, "an animal, maybe?" The answer was a low hissed insult to Hagrid and his love for animals from Dolohov. Then Yaxley took a look at his magical watch and grumbled out: "It's nearly time, Potter had an hour."

"The Dark Lord won't like it and he was sure the boy would come." Which came from the dark haired and bearded male.

"Let us head back and hear what our Lord has planned." Was the others offering, so they headed back to where they came from and Harry's body silently followed them, he knew they would lead him where he had to go. Just a few minutes later and they reached the clearing where the Acromantula Aragog had once resided. His descendants had been chased out by the Death Eaters to fight in the war. In the middle of said cobweb covered clearing blazed a fire, flickering with every breath of the wind, throwing dancing shadows on the recent occupants.

Death Eaters, as far as the eye could reach in this dimly lit place. Some of them still were hooded, while others showed off their faces. Harry made out two giants hovering in the distance, the Werewolf Fenrir Greyback and the Malfoys, who looked spooked and hollow. All of their gazes never left the snake faced Dark Lord, who stood with a inclined head and his hands holding the Elder Wand, as if in prayer. His snake Familiar, curled around herself, hovered behind him, protected by a magical cage which seemed oddly like a halo. The-boy-who-lived stood there, at the edge of the clearing, gaze sweeping over their heads, together with the ghost like beings that followed him.

As Dolohov and Yaxley joined their little cult, reporting to their Master. But Voldemort seemed to ignore them, for his red gaze raised upwards to look past them and Harry had the feeling as if the old snake knew where he was. As Bellatrix tried to speak - probably to reassure him that she was here and would bring the boy to her master like a good little dog - he lifted a cold, marble hand to bid her silence.

"You are mistaken." Was his cold reply, apparently he had actually listened to the two fools in front of him, but his eyes were still fixated on the spot where Harry stood. "The boy will show himself."

And, as if it had awaited that comment, his body moved on it's own. His hands lifted the cloak and stuffed it under his robes together with his wand. For an agonizing moment the two of them just starred at each other, while the shocked audience around them took their time to realize that there truly stood the boy-who-lived in their middle. Only when Hagrid, who was bound by magically enhanced chains to restrain him, began to bellow for Harry to run did the other occupants of the clearing react.

The two Giants, who threw large shadows across the gathered, roared as the Death Eaters raised from their positions to surround the young man, screams were heard, gasps and even laughter. Hagrid was silenced quickly by a man who Harry recognized as Rowle, as the other Death Eaters went silent once more, when the boy did not react to their cat-calling.

Meanwhile the boy himself stood there, he wanted to grab his wand, which he felt pressed against his chest, pulsing with its owners heart. Sadly his body was on autopilot again, not doing a thing against the thread in front of him. His parents and Remus still stood by his side, and if it had not been for that strange occurrence shortly before his godfather had appeared he was sure his body would have lost the Resurrection Stone by now.

"Harry Potter", was the thing that ripped him out of his thoughts, "the boy-who-lived."

Seemed to be quiet fascinating for the Dork Lard that Harry's body had decided to appear directly in front of him, only separated by the fire in their middle. A thought forced it's way into Harry's mind, it was Ginny Weasley, her brilliant red hair, her bright brown eyes, her lips on his...  
A shudder ran down his spine and Harry knew how wrong this was. She was more like a younger sister to him, like a Quidditch buddy than a girl he could fancy. Sure, she was beautiful, but Hermione and Luna were beautiful too - so that was not saying anything. At the edge of his perception he observed Voldemort lifting his wand and he had the urge to draw his own and defend himself, alas his body would not move. The old snakes head was tilted to the right, almost like that of a curious kitten which had spotted something _really_ interesting.

So, as Voldemort's lips moved to form a spell, Harry did catch his eye and stared defiantly back, his emerald eyes flashing with the light of the death curse as it shot up to him.

Then there was nothingness.

* * *

_* If anyone has not noticed, my native tongue is not English, so I had to translate that part of Harry and his Mom from the seventh Book in my native tongue. I just thought it would be a great scene to put in here, as there might or might not be much interaction between those two._

__Puppeteers Sonata: Yes. Yes, I actually did that. It is by the way slightly altered. Deal with it. (Zelda, The Wind Waker)__

**__~ HP ~ OZ~__**

_Óla Chikoritas,_

_I was tempted to call this chapter 'Da Fuge?' :3_  
_As you can see: I didn't. Probably better this way, this is a sirius Fanfiction after all__ :D_  
_Hope you liked this chapter and are eager for the next. So that's one shitload there happening to ikle little Harrykins.  
Firstly your (near) usual Dumbledore, Weasley and other Bashing as well as gray or dark Harry Story plot: Stealing from the boy-who-lived 's Family and keeping him under ones (Dumbledore's) thumb. And, yes, Dumbles succeeded, and, yes, the following School Years happened as cannon up until the point written above. I will probably come up with shit tons of Nicknames for Ol' Moldy, his Companions and the Ol' Goat. (I can already see it: The Death Kittens :3 Does sound good, nee? Kitty-Mort and the Death Kittens. Almost sounds like a Band :D) You are welcome to join the __Nickname making ;) They will be used on occasion, when someone is pissed or just wants to ridicule the dark army, or rather any enemy, for example._

_I soon will have my hands full with learning and keeping as-good-as-possible grades :)_

_Chapters will come out **1st** and **15th** of each Month, _as long as I can keep it up_ and my Muses keep comming back to me :3_

_yours,_  
_Berry_


	4. Chapter Three

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words_

**Chapter Three  
Of Fate and Bumbling Bees**

_" To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.__"_

_\- Albus Dumbledore -_

__'If this is death'___, _Harry Potter thought as he gazed at his surroundings_,___ 'then it sucks.'__

_Everything_ was white.

_Freaking ___everything___. _

When he had woken up he had laid, face first, on the ground and had been absolutely sure he and the entity in his hand were the only ones within a five mile radius. Well, as much as there could be a five mile radius within a light mist that seemed to form the gigantic pillars, tracks and benches of King's Cross Station.

Sadly he had been mistaken, he and his godfather had not been alone.  
As they stepped closer to the repelling sound of wet appendages slapping on stone and slight wailing Harry could make out a tiny form. There, under the nearest sitting-bench laid a slimy, naked and flailing _thing _that looked grotesquely like a baby. One ugly-ass baby. His godfather chose that moment to materialize next to him.

Here, in wherever-here-might-be, the old dog seemed to be made entirely of black mist and his formerly gray eyes shone a dark red, which made him look demonic. But as demonic as he might look, his eyes held pity for the small creature underneath the bench.

True, it probably was a piece of Voldemort's soul, but this one had been with his godson since he was a baby and there was a probability that, if removed, Harry would be damaged. Sixteen years spent with a piece of someones soul would bind them together in one way or another. At least that was what he had learned and still remembered from the old soul magic related books.

"What's wrong, Padfoot?" Asked his grown godchild curiously. So the entity, known as Sirius Black, bound into his godson's wand-hand, tried to explain his thought pattern.

"You remember, when we were in Gringotts that I had read through a book on soul magic, right?" At the silent nod the black mist continued. "Well, there was a theory saying that if two souls had to share one body they would slowly merge into one as it was a necessity to survive. As this was not the case with you and Voldemort, I suspect the protection your mother had given you had stopped that from happening the past fourteen years. Until the point where that wretched ritual was held. So the formerly trapped soul piece held inside of you and yourself began to merge." He pondered that thought until he was interrupted by his godson.

"So the piece of Kitty-Mort", Sirius snorted at that, the teen was definitely a genius at nicknaming, "which I suspect to be the same age as his alive counterpart - which was at that time around sixty - took in my memories and began to DE-evolve into the last state it had known me and began to age according to my memories."

"Good theory, but no. In your theory he would be at least two, if not three years old and had already contacted you over the past years. But as you can see, this one", he pointed at the pitiful image in front of them, "is still a baby. So his soul piece changed to your physical age when it entered your body, but still held the intellect and knowledge of the original. The fact that it did not age at all tells us that this one right here was...", he paused to search for the right word,_ "___purged__ by your innocent heart and soul before being trapped inside of you by your mothers magic. It probably merged sightly with your soul before hand. Sadly the fact that I had been bound to you by a gray magical ritual both of you were corrupted slightly and so your souls are neither black nor white, but gray instead. At least in theory."

They both looked down at the baby like thing which wriggled around until its head was faced in their direction and it opened its eyes.

Harry was startled.

There were no merciless blood red eyes, or calculating dark ones staring back at him, but __friendly and intelligent___ Emerald green ones._

"Oh."

Was the black mist's intelligent reply. So his theory was true then - he had not been too sure - the little guy under the bench was merged partly to his godson. Not only merged, but slightly fused. Curious the little guy tilted his head to the right - like a little kitten.

"Gods, its Kitty-Mort Potter."

Was the next thing coming from the black mist entity, which earned him a slap to the back of his head. Shocked that his godson had _actually hit him over the head_ \- and the fact that it had worked - the now red eyed being stared at the young man, who looked back not too amused.

Then the young man did something unexpected. He bent down, stretched out his arms and took the little thing in his bare hands. True it was kind of awkward holding this little slimy thing, but Harry did not react to the slimy mucus against his hand, instead he kept starring into the similar emerald eyes of Voldemort's soul piece.

Harry felt a connection between them and soon enough there was a bright light between his hands and the slimy baby Tom. Until the piece of a soul vanished in a shower of white light.

"Okay", said Sirius while elongating the word unnecessarily, "I am not going to tell you how barmy that looked."

The young man gave no reply, as he stared wide-eyed at the spot between his hands. His mind shook - almost like he had head banged for hours on end - as memories flashed into him, as if they were his own.

But they weren't.

They were the memories of Voldemort's soul piece up until the point when they had stared at each other right now. Harry could not sort them, for they were too many and he was but one, so he took his time and pressed them into a corner of his mind to keep them there until he would be able to deal with them accordingly in the future. If there was a future for him.

At this moment he was not too sure about that.

When he reopened his eyes he found himself kneeling on the ground, face in his trembling hands and supported by his forearms. Close up the mist-like thing forming the ground looked even creepier than from above. He could feel the hand of his godfather resting on his arched back, supporting him silently. Some deep breaths later the young man was calm enough to stand up again, Sirius helping him along the way.

"Tell me, what happened? One moment Lord Baby was in your hands - which, by the way, was gross as hell - and the next second he goes poof like he swallowed an army of _Patronuses_."

"Isn't it_ Patron___i__?" Harry asked his confused godfather, who shook his head no after thinking about the right way to pronounce the word. *

"As for what happened: I believe your theory was right. Our souls did kind-of connect at first and then I absorbed him. Now I know everything he knew, though I will need help with sorting those memories... later." The younger explained, brooding about his earlier thought of the future.

Sirius did not like that aspect, but alas he could currently not do a thing about that, so he just nodded his understanding and asked the next big question.

"Now,_ where_ in the name of Bumble-Whore's sparkling ass are we?" Harry, who actually_ did ___not__ need that picture in his head, smacked his godparent upside the head again, before shrugging clueless.

As he was about to reply with a 'no clue', he was interrupted by a third voice coming from the off.

A voice neither of them actually wanted to hear at the moment.

"I will have you know that I most certainly have not a sparkling behind." Great. Fucking great. Of course _the old codger_ was here.

Luckily Sirius had a snark comment handy.

"_Of course_ you would first focus on your ass and __then__ the fact that I called you_ a whore." _Which had Harry snorting in amusement, was that something a Black had to learn? To have a comment prepared no matter the odds? Wouldn't surprise him in the least.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not happy to see the black mist called Sirius Black here. It seemed the red eyed one was one of the few miscalculations he had made in his long life. Alas there was nothing he could actually do about it, because the next miscalculation had been his death by the hands of Severus Snape.

Not, as the potions Master had believed, the curse on his hand to be the cause - he had already known how to heal that particular curse.

Originally he had planned to miraculously heal it after Harry Potter's death, making a curse alteration potion out of dragon blood to prolong the originally deadly curse for as long as he needed.*

So, when Severus had _actually_ _killed_ him on that tower, it came as a great shock to the white bearded wizard. His first thought was that Severus may had been able to actually throw_ the ___Puppeteers Sonata__ off, for his will was rather strong and had been hard to break over the years. But he had not run into anything deadly afterward, so his secondary curse had either failed, Severus had found the counter curse for that one,_ or _the bat of the dungeons had another, more powerful curse laid on him by another fraction. It was rather puzzling, even to his brilliant mind.

Well, it did not matter now, all that mattered was that Harry was apparently dead. But there was no sign of Voldemort - aside from that wailing sound he had heard earlier. Was it the Horcrux inside Harry? But now all traces of it were gone, so either Harry had destroyed it, someone had come and send it to hell, or that disgusting black mist had devoured it. Which one it was, was now to find out, for there was a fourth possibility he rather not have turned true.

"Harry, my boy." Either the old man did not notice the growl escaping from Sirius or he ignored it, for he showed no reaction. "I believe there should be someone else here." He gazed at the duo over his half moon glasses, eyes twinkling wildly.

"You mean that part of Voldemort's soul that was attached to_ my godchild_?" Growled the black mist, stepping forward protectively, eyes glowing an ethereal red. Sparkling blue met angry red, neither of them budging. The green eyed one just sighed, this was going to be long, really long. And if he knew his godfather right, he would probably blab about the vanished Lord.

Luckily he did not know his godfather __that__ good.

"I __ate__ it." He practically sneered, almost as good as Snape if Harry did not know it any better. Dumbledore paled rapidly to the point where he almost resembled the ever lasting white surrounding their forms.

"Sirius", he breathed heavily, eyes sparkling even more, "how far have you sunken."

"Not as low as you, Albus." Rumbled he-who-was-now-mist, said substance spreading little by little as the former prisoner grew angrier with every second. "__You___, _who dares to approach my godson. __You__, who dares to undermine the lives of hundreds of people and __you___,_ who dares to lay a will-suppressing spell on so many beings!" By now the mist had wrapped itself protectively around Harry's body, while it looked like a waving cloak around the dense form of Sirius.

Dumbledore, ever the goody-two-shoes-player made the most innocent, questioning face he could muster.

"But, Sirius why would I _possibly_ do such a thing?" A few years ago the young boy for whom he held this charade would probably have fallen for said innocent, questioning face. But not now. No. Now he stood there hooded by the dark mist, emerald eyes gleaming with silent anger. But he kept it inside, wanting to see what the old bee was up to.

Disappoint, the white bearded man did not.

"Harry, please. You _have _to believe me, I never intended for you to end like _this_." Obviously meaning being still half alive rather than dead, but trying to hide the truth behind falsities. None the less the old man waved a hand at a growling Sirius and then the boy.

"That which this being, who takes the appearance of your long lost godfather, has eaten was a part of Voldemort's soul, his final Horcrux. The final tie that bound him to immortality. But now, now you have done it and he is once again mortal!"

Well either the old geezer really did not know of Nagini the snake, or he purposely left her out of the loop. Harry, who really did not wish to antagonize a unknown quantity right now just nodded along the words, hoping that Sirius would play along.

"But, Professor", he began slowly, searching the old man's face for any kind of reaction, "aren't you _dead_?" He made it sound more like a question than it really was, none the less keeping his emerald eyes as innocent and questioning as possible. Harry never truly was a good actor in his own humble opinion so he was rather happy that the old man nodded sagely.

"Indeed", somehow his voice was not so grandfatherly anymore,"_I am Death_."

Wait, didn't he ask if he was _dead_?

Confused by the sudden change the young boy stared at the old man who now was wearing a sly grin on his bearded face, eyes no longer twinkling in blue. Now they were bland gold. The twosome kept staring at the old man who now was growing, or rather DE-growing, his long white beard, the crooked nose cracking back into place and long white hair was shortening to messy spikes. UN-growing a few inches there, before them stood now a deathly pale being clothed in the same white robes as before. Black was creeping it's way into the formerly white coronas around the golden irises, a half insane grin plastered on his face.*

"Well", the young man announced in a bored voice, "less Death and more of its Harbinger, but", here he shrugged,"who in their right mind cares for technicalities." Which was no question, but instead a statement. Harry noted this being made a lot of movements with his arms and hands. They both stared at the one calling himself Death.

"What?" Was asked as the white being noticed their stares. "Oh, you are probably wondering how I am who I am, instead of being who you thought I was. You see it is a rather funny story involving lot's of goats, tons of cheese and a old man trying to cross the Bridge of Life."

Was it bad that Harry got how goats were involved? In the mean time the white one before them was telling a confusing story about the formerly mentioned things until he realized he was getting off-track.

"Anyhow, I tend to get off-track sometimes. It is not often I can talk to strangers, last time was a few years back with that Potter-couple. Indecision is not always good, like in your case Harry." Breathing in deeply the golden eyed semi-teen prepared for a long story.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore", or a rather long name," has managed", or not,"to evade his death."

What?

"He has splintered his Soul by murdering his own sister on purpose-"

"Wait, but he always insisted on the fact that it all was a terrible accident! And that he was terrified if it had actually been him." Shouted Harry out, who's head was spinning rapidly.

"Yeah, well if I were a great wizard everybody believed in, my brother a old codger and my former lover a sitting duck in a prison, then I too would _insist_ on being innocent." Came the reply. "You can practically touch what's wrong with that sentence, boy, he _insisted_. Nothing good _ever_ comes if Dumbledore _insists_. The normal occurrence would be death, destruction or World War and that happened _twice_, because why? HE INSISTED!" Huffing annoyed at the end Death's Harbinger plopped down on the bench like it was a comfortable sofa.

Blinking owlishly Harry took a seat next to the white one, staring at him questioningly, while Sirius was occupied calming himself down. Somehow the rage the white entity had felt, he had felt too.

"Not that I mind death and reaping peoples souls, you know. But a lot of those people were not even meant to die for a _very long_ _time_ and he-who-has-a-stick-up-his-ass just came along and was all like 'Hi there, you don't like this and that? Go wage war against it. Or imprison them and make them work to their death, whichever you prefer.' yada-yada. And _then_ he even had the gall to call me Ann-Mary. That little bastard. Oh how I wish I could mingle in mortal affairs directly." The last part was murmured and probably not meant for their ears but they both heard it none the less. Somebody had a _huge_ grudge against old Dumbledore.

"Anyway. Back to the story. The White-Whiskered-Wanker actually evaded Death by splitting his soul, like Tom. Alas he had but one. Originally. Then he went and separated that single one in three parts. The larger part of his splintered soul went to one immortal being, the Phoenix Fawks, who actively destroyed the part within him by swallowing that Avada Curse back in your fifth year in the Ministry.

The tinier parts were stowed in two of Fawks' wing feathers, which then were incorporated into your and Tom's wand, creating the twin-core problem. Luckily I was able to pull some strings and got both soul pieces ripped away from your wands. One by destroying your wand in your battle against Nagini, the second was a tad bit more trickier because Tom had hid his wand after taking Lucius'. Luckily I am awesome, so I send my Hellgoats (the ones with the flaming hooves and eyes, you know), who then destroyed the whole Riddle-Mension together with the wand hidden there. Sadly though that piece of Soul actually left the wand long ago when Tom tried to murder you as a baby and his spell rebounded. So we kinda just burned down his property."

"Wait, I thought you could not mingle with mortal affairs?" Asked Sirius, who was sitting in front of his Godson and Death's Harbinger in lotus position, listening with interest. The white one nodded.

"You are right. But that's the point. I can not mingle with _mortal_ affairs. But Fawks is not mortal, is he?" A insane grin spread across his face, golden eyes twinkling madly. Giggling to himself as if it was the funniest joke ever. He glanced away from the duo, towards the seemingly endless way that was King's Cross Station. The other two occupants just stared at the white clothed man until he turned his attention to them once again.

"The turn of the tides is upon them. The Pendulum must be turned back. You have to fight, you have to be ready." These riddled words only confused them more as the golden eyed man stared at the black haired teen. "Your destiny is far greater and far more complicated then you think, Harry."

"Of course it is." Came a voice from the off.

Startled the two wizards turned around unbelieving of what they were hearing.  
There, before them stood Dumbledore in a white robe, half moon glasses tilted so that his eyes looked at them with a new found intensity. Frowning Harry stood up, not wanting to be caught off-guard by the old wizard, but then again there was something different in this ones gaze. Something about his eyes-

"Holy shit." Came the comment from his godfather that had stood up equally as guarded as his pup. He too had seen that there was something different to this Dumbledore than the one they knew.

"Harry. His eyes! They are-""-_green_." Ended the teen the older mans sentence. It was true, instead of the usually twinkling blue eyes there were twinkling emerald green ones staring back at them.

"Ah, so the barrier sweet Lily's magic had created did keep you out too." Grumbled the white one, gnawing at his black fingernails. "I had theorized about that, but that you too would be bound to Mr. Potter is a convenient plot, aye?"

Harry meanwhile had a bit of a problem following what the _actual fuck_ was going on.

Was this green-eyed Dumbledore like the Baby Tom they had seen earlier? Why was he so drawn to him?

Unbeknown to the boy he was slowly creeping towards the white clad geezer. Sadly as Sirius realized that and tried to stop the young one he was stopped by Death's Harbinger who just shook his head, staring interested at the duo before them. What would happen?

* * *

_* Well, the twelve methods to use a dragons blood inside alchemy were not known, and since Dumbledore actually managed to decipher them here we are! (At least if it's true...) The first method to use dragon blood: To prolong the effects of a curse._

_*Patronuses is given as the correct term at Harry Potter Wikia_

_* Yes, I have gone there. I personally think he would do a great incarnation of death, nee? Our good ol' Hollow-Ichigo. Or at least this one looks like him. Has a tad bit of Sheogorath in him, wouldn't you say? (Bleach / TES)_

**_~ HP ~ OZ ~_**

_Óla Chikoritas,_

_Don't get me wrong, I actually like Dumbledore very much, but I felt he would make a great first opponent for ikle little Harrykins. I did use a bit of the idea for the Dumbledore (triple) Horcrux after I watched a Video on Harry Potter Theory's by the Super Carlin Brothers. The plot keeps twisting and I am grooming it's evil bunny's :3_

_Thanks for the encouraging comment(s), hopefully this story will keep your interest :3_

_yours,_  
_Berry_

_Fun-Fact: I actually named my Laptop Ace._


	5. Chapter Four

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words_

**Chapter Four  
Til Death do us part**

_"The Soul is the truth of who we are.__"_

_\- Marianne Williamson -_

"Well, that was unexpected."

"On the contrary it was_ totally_ expected, Mr. Black."

The two contrary colored men starring at the scene in front of them, were a tad bit disenchanted by what was happening. Truth to be told the black haired one had kind-of expected this, but not to this extend, as it had happened just a few minutes ago.

Yes.

Harry just had fused with the weird green eyed Dumbledore, but instead of curling up on himself like he did before he was lifted upwards into the air - if there was any of it here anyways (one couldn't tell) - and his whole body lit up white. Formerly his godchild had not announced any kind of pain during the merging, but now he was screaming like a banshee.

Frantic he moved forward, only to be stopped again by Death's Harbinger.

"He will be fine." Was what he said. "That is if his will is strong enough."

Which did_ nothing _to sooth Sirius mind at all.

Harry felt as if his body was on fire, everything was burning, boiling and tearing.  
Why had he walked towards the green eyed Dumbledore?  
Why did this one not explode in a shower of light as Tom's soul piece had before?  
Why had this one just fused with his body?  
Would this one change him? He was so confused and he had a murderous headache to top it all of.

Once his body stopped burning, the boiling and tearing got worse.

As if ripping his sole existence apart just to reattach it in the same space. He felt the memories flushing into his mind, creating a storm. Sure that he was going insane he kept on screaming until his hurting throat hurt no longer. His fingers, hands, feet, everything was spastic, twitching, curling. No longer in control over his body he begged that at least some of his muscle functions were still there, otherwise this was going to be really mortifying for him.

Well, at least he still had common sense, even if all else seemed to currently fail.

Soon, or rather not so soon but hours later the boiling stopped too. His fingers stopped twitching, only the tearing was still there, which later dispersed completely. __'At least I can say that I know something even worse than the Cruciatus.'__ Went through his mind as he felt himself fall onto the white floor thought a thick veil that clouded his senses. The memories still made him dizzy.

A familiar voice he had not realized was talking to him inside was fading slowly into nothingness. As he laid there the boy realized that the exhausted trembling had stopped and his eyes were shut close.

"Harry?" Sounded the untypical timid voice of his godfather.

"Yes?" He wanted to say but all that came out was a low hum.  
Exhausted as he was Harry still kept his eyes shut, not wanting to add onto the headache already pounding away in his head with the bright white of his surroundings. Still through the veil he felt his godfathers cold hand caressing his cheek and then his forehead.

"You are running a fever." Came the solemn words.

"It will sink in a few minutes. He is strong, Mr Black.  
You have overcome the piece of Dumbledore's soul that latched itself to you together with Tom's back when you were just a babe." Said the nearing white being almost monotonous. Harry had so many questions that twirled in his head together with the twister of memories. Now there were so many he could not hold the ones back that he had received earlier. Tom Riddle's and Albus Dumbledore's memories clashed, hurting his head even worse, he wanted them to stop. Wanted them to get out, but there were so freakishly many.

"Let them sort themselves." Came the hint from outside, as if the Harbinger had read his mind. "Lay silent, let them fuse and_ calm down _or they will return later on and destroy your mind scape."

So Harry followed the instructions, breathed in and out, concentrated on just that motion alone, calming down his frantic mind until the twister calmed down and left a chaos to be sorted. But not now. He would have to learn Occlumency from scratch was what the Harbinger told him next. Then he could accesses the foreign memories, as well as his own, and sort them to his liking.

"Of course it is all easier the earlier you begin and you being seventeen is not helping that case at all. Few of the old families do either teach their children from the age of three, or have family magic to do the trick. So it will be hard, but none the less manageable."

Now Harry had no doubt how the white one had been able to impersonate Albus Dumbledore, he almost seemed like another person when he was not spouting insanity. After what felt like eternity the headache was subdued to a light pressure he forgot about after two seconds, too used to pain to actually care.

Soon after he opened his eyes a fraction to gaze at the hovering form of his godfather.

"The fever is gone, how is your head?" Instead of answering he just showed Sirius a thumbs up that was slightly tilted to indicate that there still was some pain, but he was okay. The old dog sighed relieved.

After getting slowly into a sitting position Harry rubbed his tired eyes to stay awake. Apparently fusing souls was rather exhausting. But what was with the two soul pieces?  
They had been part of two other whole souls and to his knowledge his soul had been whole too, so did that make his soul bigger?  
Instead of burdening his hurt head with that question longer than necessary he asked it out loud.

"Yes. Your soul is a tad bit bigger now than before. No, it does not change the fact that it still is gray due to the ritual the two of you underwent. If anything, it was cemented into the gray area due to the whiskered idiot's white family magic - which is partly embedded into a soul - and his darkening soul at that time."

Somehow the twosome had the distinct feeling that Death's Harbinger was a bit annoyed by them and their endless questions.

"Not with you per se." Came the reply to a not asked question. "I am more pissed at that __stupid mongrel__ that is currently tipping away at the Laptop, calling herself a writer. I_ swear _if I get any more screen time that goes beyond this here chapter without being paid I will come up there and we will have a nice, long __chat__." Threatened the white being, breaking the fourth wall in the process. Due to not wanting _a ___chat__ \- probably involving goats, horker teeth and the (uh...) __chatting___ chamber_ of the Black Hand - with said Harbinger, the writer decided it would be the best for business to never include him again. __Ever___. _*

"Now that that's out of the way", grumbled the white being, expertly ignoring the stares from the wizard duo, "I will make a long story about you two short and say it outright: I could send you back in time."

Harry's and Sirius eyes widened at that possibility, so many lives they could save, so much they could change.

"Ah, yes, the_ ever convenient_ time travel plot. Rather overused in a few parallel worlds, but for this world it has to do. Sadly I can't do it now. Still have a lot of Energy to collect for me to throw two of you back. Luckily for me I shall_ never_ appear again, unless this mongrel has some way to force me. I will sent you back when the time is convenient and you two will_ never_ know when it actually happens. So, you will have to entertain yourselves for the next few days, to months, to years, to decades until then._ Bye._"

And with that the white was gone, mad cackling surrounded the two consciousnesses left floating, until they felt themselves falling back into a container.

His senses came back to Harry and he knew in that instant that he had not felt, smelled, seen or breath anything before.  
Again he laid there, face first, on the ground. This time it was earth, he was sure of that. The smell alone told him that. He felt the cold hart earth under his cheek, the hinge of his glasses hurt his temple, now realized he had not worn them before in that strange place resembling King's Cross. 'The in-between.' Mumbled something in his head.

Everything hurt like hell. Again.

Harry did not move, he stayed silent and as still as if he had been hit by a Petrificus Totalus. His mouth stood agape, eyes closed, his left arm laying in an awkward position and his body weight weighting nastily on his poor knees. He heard nothing. Against his expectations there was no loud howling of triumph, or happy cheers. It was deafening silent, only hasty steps and anxious whispering filled the air.

"My Lord. My Lord."

It was Bellatrix voice he heard first.

Her voice was pleading, soft, almost lovingly, as if she was speaking to a dear lover.

That idea alone was revolting, but Harry kept still, even as he forced down the pictures conjured in his head.  
Absentmindedly he registered that his wand was still there, together with the Cloak of Invisibility pressed against his belly. Again the insane witch called out the mans title, this time he roughly interrupted her and Harry had the urge to open his eyes just a little, so he could see what was happening.  
Luckily he laid so that he could easily see a rising Dark Lord, surrounded by his followers. Hastily stepping back they made room for the dark wizard so that they would not be in the path of his wrath. Only Bellatrix stayed by his side. Something must have happened when the old one had fired off the deadly curse. Had he too been knocked out?

"My Lord, let me-", came Bellatrix' voice ripping through his thoughts. He could not see her face, but her tone implied a worried one. Sadly the idiot pushed her helpfully reaching hand away as he straightened himself a little more.

"The boy...", his Lordship trailed off shortly for unknown reasons, "is the boy dead?"

The clearing grew dead silent.

The whispers ceased to exist and Harry felt every single pair of eyes on his form and he feared something would twitch under their watchful gaze. He suppressed his breathing to a bare minimum, his heart beating loud, almost traitorously in his chest as Voldemort called out one of his underlings, a slap was heard shortly followed by a sharp pained cry.

"Tell me that he is dead!"

And so Harry, not knowing who it was, as he had just closed his eyes, waited with his low breathing and racing heart for the follower of Moldy-Shorts to come up to him. Blood was rushing though his ears and his formerly subdued headache came back with a vengeance. Luckily without the memories.

Then there were fingers. Decidedly soft fingers on delicate hands, a person who probably never had worked hard.  
Lady fingers neither Hermione, Ginny nor Luna had. Forcing down the heavy scowl that wanted to cement itself on his face he waited. He hoped beyond anything that this was not Bellatrix.

The unknown soft hands traveled through his shirt, placed themselves on his chest in search for a heartbeat, after lifting his eyelids. He felt the lady's breath on his face before her long hair tickled his skin.

Realization hit him hard. She could feel his heartbeat.

"Draco", came the low, unexpected whispered from the woman, "is he still_ alive_? Is he at the castle?"

For a moment he had to wrack his pained brain for who this was, only for a voice that sounded oddly like Sirius to whisper in his head, that this was Narcissa Malfoy. Of course she would want to know about her son.

Harry, who still had difficulties to remember his own life, considering he had been cursed for the past two years and the fact that he now had two other long term memories, tried to remember if Draco was alive at Hogwarts.

There was a brief flash of fire, blond hair and the sensation of flying that finally came through the headache.  
Her whispering was so low he nearly forgot she had talked to him at all, even though he could feel her proximity, her long hair probably hiding his face from view.

"Yes." He breathed back, not daring to say anything else, not even moving his lips. Her hand tensed on his torso, long groomed fingernails digging into his flesh that still hurt like hell. Harry could not, for the life of him, say if she drew blood or not. Her hands vanished from where they had rested, she had stood up, now facing all the Death Eaters on her own.

"He is dead." Said Narcissa, he could hear the smile in her voice, as could everyone else. But they seemingly mistook it for the joy of his death instead of the joy of her alive son. They howled, laughed, danced with joy, he saw as he allowed his eyes to open again as a slit. He closed them again as bright lights were shot from various wands.

Red and Silver.

Quiet ironic.

As he laid there as a corpse he began to understand that Narcissa only ever could get into Hogwarts in the victorious army of Voldemort if she was to search for her son. She seemingly did not care if the Lord her husband served actually won anymore, or not. The commotion died down as the snake claimed that he had finally killed the-boy-who-lived and fired off a Crucio.

Harry had seen it coming, he had known that his carcass would not lay non-defiled on the cold ground of the forest for long. He had to be defiled for Voldemort's victory to actually count.

Being flung around like a rag-doll was_ not_ funny, he still had a headache and he had a hart time keeping silent and limp. Oh how he wanted to vanquish the fucker right now. Sadly now was not the time. Three new Cruciatus Curses followed the original one, but the pain stayed away. Or more like it was absorbed into his already hurting body. He felt his glasses come off with one flight, with another his wand slipped slightly, but he still kept quiet, apathetic.

Scornful shouts echoed around the campfire as his cadaver landed one last time before snake face, who almost howled in triumph.  
The rest of the event was rather fast as Hagrid was cat-called forth to carry the boy-who-lived up to the castle. Poor half giant had to do it, but internally Harry wondered if he was Dumbledore's loyal lapdog or if the keeper, too was cursed. As he laid there lax in the arms of his teacher he heard a subdued voice in his head.

__'Harry'__, it was Sirius ,__'I'm with you.'__

It was a short message to keep his headache at a bare minimum, but it none the less made his point clear. Even if the others all were cursed by the Puppeteers Sonata Harry still was not alone. Feeling comfort in that he played dead as long as he had to, not once opening his eyes, even when he could hear a familiar female voice screaming in pain. Another laughed, then there were panicked voices from, what he mad out to be, his friends. He did not follow the debate, his headache was pounding and for a short moment he played with the thought of playing dead until the end of battle - but it vanished shortly after he heard Voldemort slander him as a coward.

Just then somebody stormed forward, apparently going directly for the snake faced bastard.

Then there was a bang, a scream of pain and Harry had the urge to open his eyes. So he did, just a tiny gap, but enough to make out Neville Longbottom going down to the ground after being hit by a green curse.

Poor Neville, he was regretting the fact that he never had actually looked at the other boy closer. Neville would have been a great wizard, courageous like a Gryffindor should be and, according to the boy himself and the Sorting Hat, a Hufflepuff - hard working and loyal, even when he had ended in the other house.

Silently Harry cursed Dumbledore, Voldemort and the Ministry for all they had ever done.

Now that poor Neville lay dead on the school grounds the others panicked and Harry took that moment to end it all.

Why should he waste more life when he could just be done with it?  
Besides, he had a headache and his body was still in pain.

Before his eyes sprung wide open his hand was already underneath his shirt, grabbing his wand. He found his target, Lord Voldemort, in a split second. Idiot had of course been standing right in front of his followers, thinking himself to high to be touched. In that moment Harry did not think about possible consequences, he_ seriously _wanted to hurt that asshole for everything he had done, thought it might have been a push from Dumbledore to let him do so.

Plus, he rationalized, he did_ not _want to be called the next Dark Lord by firing off the Death Curse.

So he took a different spell.

_"_Bombarda!" __

And nobody had expected it, truth to be told not even Harry had expected Voldemort to be so lenient, so plain idiotic.

All that stood in proximity to the Dark Lord were sprayed with blood as Tom Riddle's brain matter exploded in a fountain. Now the only thing left to do was killing the snake, Nagini, which luckily was released from her bubble behind Voldemort beforehand. Sadly he had not the time to attack her too, besides he had to use either Fiendfyre or Godric Gryffindor's sword, which-

Somehow this was getting even more ridiculous by the minute, as if some higher power wanted him to have the upper hand.

Fawkes appeared in a flash of flames, bearing the Sorting Hat, which, as Harry caught it, materialized the sword he previously thought of. Surprisingly everybody else was still in some kind of shock, because he could fall out of Hagrids shock-frosted arms, take three leaping steps towards the hissing Boa while preparing for the strike and behead her leaping form as the first Death Eater began to move for his wand.

* * *

__Óla, Chikoritas :)__

__I contemplated ending this Chapter right here, but luckily for you I wanted to get somewhere besides redoing J.R's final chapters.__

__~Berry__

* * *

Black fog poured out from the fallen carcass of Lord Voldemort and his snake Nagini, dispersing as beneath it a battle broke out.

Harry could have face palmed himself as he dived out of the way when multiple Avada flew at him, hitting people behind him. He did, at that moment, actually not care who it was, as he was out for self-preservation.

At the edge of his perception he saw Hagrid rounding on the Death Eaters behind him, backhanding two at once, knocking them nine feet away from him. The whole school and all Death Eaters were in an uproar, and Harry was sure that the image he just produced by exploding Voldemort's head would hound him and others for a long, long time.

Actually, if it weren't for his murderous headache he was sure that this would be on the forefront of his mind.

He sprinted behind fallen debris, body practically on autopilot, ducking underneath more incoming spells. Not sure if they only were from one side he searched behind him to see if anybody of his 'friends' would hit him, but none were there aiming at him. Instead he saw Luna running towards his spot shooting of vicious spells at their enemies. For a second he was glad that, even if she was cursed, or paid off against him, she still would battle for him - at the moment.

As she neared him he could see the tears in her saddened eyes. For a moment emerald green met silver-gray, then she pointed her tulip shaped wand at him-

__'Behind you!'__ Shouted Sirius and Harry grabbed his head with his left hand at the prompt pounding ache, while his right one independently moved towards the unknown attacker.

Spells flew and as Harry saw green rushing past him on the edge of his vision, he only hoped Luna could avoid the curse as he himself, or rather his wand-hand, fired off a Diffindo at the attacker, slicing his throat.

Screams got louder on the battlefield, pained ones, that tore through his ever present headache, some of them promised death, others destruction. He turned around again, but Luna was not there, bodies littered the ground, light and dark alike.

Firing of spell after spell he had no feeling of the actual time passing.

He knew he killed, but he could not bring himself to feel true remorse as he still was living off of his adrenalin alone, trying to stay alive. Seeing death occur in such gruesome, almost regular fashion made his insides churn. But he kept going, firing of his whole arsenal of charms, curses, jinxes and hexes, taking out his enemies left and right while getting hit a few times himself with some nasty curses. He almost felt like a Berserk, ignoring all his wounds.

Finally, as the last of dark forces surrendered or fled and he was one of the last ones standing, the dawning sun shone brightly over their heads, immersing everything in a eery orange-red.

Harry could feel various wounds on his body. Broken ribs, a shattered left arm, cut off fingers. Exhaustion spreading through him, clouding his pained mind. Oh, how he wanted to fall asleep on the spot. But there was so much to do.

Gazing around him he could make out pale blond hair on the ground next to him, but it was not Luna. As he peered closer through his hazy vision he realized it was Draco Malfoy, shock forever carved onto his pale face. Feeling a pang of regret Harry stumbled around, looking for his friends.

Yes, even thought he knew they were traitorous or under a spell he still felt compelled to see if they had survived this manslaughter. Faces he knew greeted him, still lying there, as if their sacrifice was nothing, accusing him for their death. He could make out bushy brown hair and twin red mobs coming towards him, blurred as they may have been - he had lost his glasses after all.

So Hermione, Ron and Ginny were still alive.

That was good.

He stared at their incoming forms, still far away from him, trying not to step on a corpse. His headache was getting worse and worse by the minute, he could make out sobbing noises to his right, gazing shortly he saw a familiar head of red hovering above another dead person, but he was a little too messed up right now to recognize who it was.

__'We need to leave.'__ _Grumbled Sirius voice in his head, making Harry flinch and grab his throbbing head._ __'They have planned something! I feel it. Quick, under the cloak and Apparate away!'__ Sluggishly he heeded his godfathers instincts, trusting the one he called family on instinct and not questioning how in hell he could _Apparate _from Hogwarts Grounds.

Drawing the Cloak of Invisibility from underneath his shirt he draped it over himself and with a pop Harry James Potter was gone.

* * *

_*Breaking the fourth wall is hilarious! _

_Óla Chikoritas, or should that be the 501__st__?_

_Seriously, I will name myself Darth Vader... 501 Views from the first of July alone? *Epic slow clapping*  
Don't get me wrong, I will be a squealing, happy and hyper Darth..._

_What do you think? Good? Bad? Tell me if there are mistakes if you find them. I will try to make every chapter at least five pages long. If longer: Awesome. If shorter: Shit happens._

_fluff,_  
_Berry_

_Fun-Fact: I own a gorgeous Trafalgar Law figure and my parents called him Ken =,='_


	6. Chapter Five

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words_

**Chapter Five  
Nightmares**

_"There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love.  
I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you.  
I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness  
and nothing will ever exhaust me.__"_

_\- Elizabeth Gilber, Eat, Pray, Love -_

* * *

__Listening to the One Piece OST ____**Mother Sea**____ (First Part) [Extended Version] ____helped writing this.__

* * *

Somehow he had a déjà-vu as he awoke slowly, of course he laid there face first.

He was surrounded by darkness, not sure were he was either. His cheek was rather comfortable resting on something soft, blinking sluggishly he waited till his eyes adjusted. Harry had no feeling of time or space, he did not know how long he had been out or how he had survived with broken bones and deep wounds.

All he remembered was that he had exploded Voldemort's head, then killed his snake as well as some of his followers in the ensuing battle. It had all gone so freakishly fast. At that time he had been running purely on adrenalin as a pounding headache plagued him along the way. Luckily that headache was now gone, in fact there was not a thing that hurt anymore.

Confused by that fact he tried to concentrate on another memory of that event, trying to think of how much time had passed in the progress.

Sadly he failed miserably.

"You said he will be fine!" Came a low, aggressive rumble from somewhere. It sounded to Harry as if whoever it was, was standing behind a door. Almost reminded him of the time he had spent in the cupboard under the stairs when he had lived with the Dursley's.

"_My ass_ is fine", growled another voice aggravated. "Took me a _bloody week_ to get him _this_ stable."

Apparently whoever it was was pissed, which did nothing to sooth Harry's agitated nerves. What was happening? Where was he? He wanted to squirm, wanted to shout, but all he could do was lay there in silence.

Unmoving.

Confusion soon rooted itself in his head. It spread through his body until it nestled in his every limb, every organ and every corner of his being.

Why could he not move?

Why could he not remember more?

What was wrong with him?

Harry felt himself shaking, but at the same time he was not shaking at all. Frantic voices sounded through that thick door but he could not understand their words. Was he in a room? He could still feel something soft on his cheek and underneath his body. Obviously he was lying somewhere.

But where?

Soon the Questions filled his head, swirling; turning into a whirlwind together with thoughts, emotions, perceptions. Painful throbbing began again, soon turning into a full blown headache. He was so confused, so hurt. Soon there were other memories that were definitely not his own, one showed a young man with dark brown hair and calculating eyes. Another showed twinkling blue eyes on a child's face. Riddle. Dumbledore.

Names filled his head, scenes he did not life through and then again did so.

His past filled in before his eyes.

Friends.

Family.

Hurt.

Currently he was so simpleminded and confused it hurt himself. In an ironic thought, which practically flew by, he pictured Dudley feeling like this constantly.

Out of nowhere a thought made it's way from the confusion, which befuddled him even more. How was it that he held the memories of Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore when he only had part of their soul? Were memories not supposed to be in the brain? He did not understand much of that, which the Muggles had discovered over the past years and now all those new questions did was confounding him even more.

"When will he wake up?" Was questioned on the other side of the door, by a familiar voice. But he could not pinpoint who exactly it was. Lying there, hurt and confused Harry wanted to cry. He had thought after such a long time he had been out of tears, but apparently that was not the case as he felt something moist tickled the bridge of his nose.

"Soon", came the reply, "he has been fading in and out of consciousness for a while now." Then there was silence and all he could do was wait while his headache subsided little by little until his memories started to become clear. Then darkness took over before showing him a scene.

Blood.

__Everywhere.__

Everywhere was blood. He could feel it on his skin; his robes were plunged in deep red and he could feel something else, something a little thicker splosh onto his cheek right underneath his eye. Starring horrified at the scene. It was a exploding head. A familiar exploding head, who's sick pale body was covered in a smokey black gown.

Blood.

All over the place.

The scene returned multiple times after it had faded to darkness and Harry had witnessed the other death's caused by his hand. The innards of some Death Eaters spread across Hogwarts grounds, his school mates killed, maimed by those he killed with gruesome Jinxes, Hexes and whatever else he had in his arsenal. A lot of them had a slitted throat from various Diffindo's thrown their way. Another group was smashed by falling rocks he had levitated over their unsuspecting heads in a bout of anger.

Death.

He had killed.

The-boy-who-lived, defender of the light, was a __murderer___._

As the realization dawned on him and he began to sense something again outside of his confused state. Wetness traveled across his face, this time in stout masses.

Why?

So many lives lost, so many that could have lived happily-ever-after. Some of them he had not known well, others were his friends, and some he did not even know by name. Poor Neville, lying on the ground, lifeless eyes staring up into nothingness. Molly bowing over the body of Percy, clinging to him as if he was a lifeline, crying. Harry made out something in the distance, behind the door. It sounded like sobbing, slowly turning bitter and anguished. Weeping reached his ears and he wondered who it was that was crying.

"He is waking." That voice again.

His vision changed slowly from ever-lasting blackness to a long tunnel with light at the end. Said light sped up to him until it blinded his sore, wet eyes. __'Wet... eyes?'__ His mind wondered, he tried to move and truly: There his hand was coming towards his face, sluggish and almost limb, as if asleep for a long time. The black haired teen had a hard time controlling his limb and as such it slapped into his face a little hard.

There. Wetness.

Harry gazed at his hand, not noticing his surroundings. He kept staring at his tear coated fingers, why was he crying? For his enemies? For the loss of his friends, even before the last battle? For him, killing in defense of innocent peoples lives as well as his own? He still was so confused.

"Harry?" Came a soft, secondary voice from the off, as if afraid to say something. The teenager knew that voice. Sirius? Apparently he had said that out loud, for he felt a presence coming towards his lying form. Just then he realized that he was lying on his belly, right half of his face buried in a soft pillow.

Where was he?

"Harry", now his godfather stood above him in all his black-misty glory, glowing red eyes looking worried down at him, "I know you have many questions and I will answer them soon, but you need to drink some healing potions, alright?" Question came to mind why they had not just spelled inside of his belly, like Madame Pomfrey had done sometimes. Then again he had to swallow a lot of her potions too, because she could not spell everything into him at once. Figuring that was the case here too he nodded at Padfoot, whom he trusted above all else.

Seemingly relieved the black mist looked at another person, this one behind Harry. Who ever it was walked around the bed and into his field of vision.

A man of about the same height as his godfather stood there, with cropped red-brown hair and serene dark hazel eyes. Age wise the boy would say he was in his sixties. Harry felt as if he knew this man, whom he certainly never had met before. The man was clad in simple Muggle fashion, namely a jeans and a green shirt that was a bit to big for his slender frame. Who was this? Luckily the two others seemed to have picked on on the unspoken question, as the serene looking guy introduced himself.

"My name is Uther Prewett, I am a Healer from St. Mungo's Hospital." Harry starred at the man that seemed to be related to Molly Weasley. His emerald eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

"Don't fret, he is trustworthy." Said Sirius, who was standing there as if it was an every day occurrence to be black mist. His godfather had good instincts, but was this truly a good choice? For Harry's taste he still was too close to the Weasley's for comfort. An unknown variable.

The old dog sighed heavily.

"I know what's in that head of yours, but believe me, Uther is trustworthy. He despises Molly and everything she has done." A humorless chuckle escaped the red eyed one. "Hell, he didn't even flinch when I practically abducted him from his own bedroom."

Harry, who did not have much choice in the matter right now just nodded. Still trusting his godfather he took the four flasks that were handed him and drank them slowly, of course with the help of the man, as the boy still could not move properly.

"They are healing potions, one to strengthen your bones, one to heal the least wounds, one for the headache and one for calmness. This", he pulled out a fifth bottle with familiar violet liquid inside, "is a Dreamless Sleep Potion. You will take it after you have had your meal, which is already prepared on your bedside table." Truly, right there stood a bowl of chicken soup, a glass of water and half a bun.

"After that you need to be on a strict vitamin and vitality potion diet which are in that trunk over there", he waved over to a wall with the single door to this room. "Take one potion each, after every meal Mr. Potter. You are heavily malnourished. My diagnostic charms showed that you should have been at least fifty pounds heavier and stand at least at six feet and three inches tall", he swished his hand around in a disregarding manner, "not this mangy five foot five."

What?

"Not to mention your muscle mass, or those ugly blocks on you. Sadly I can not heal those blocks, as they are far to embedded into you. God's above, what has Poppy been doing all these years?" By now the red-brown haired man raged around, apparently there was more wrong with him, aside from being cursed, the-boy-who-lived and so on and so forth. After a while Uther Prewett calmed down enough to give Harry and Sirius a last speech about his distant cousin, Molly Weasley, who apparently had been an eyesore for him after robbing Uther off his rights to the Head of House Prewett.

"Be careful around her, she is one conniving bitch. A wonder she was placed into Gryffindor, should have been a Slytherin all along." With that and the promise he would not betray them, which would not be good for his career as a Healer, the old man vanished.

Afterward Harry ate his soup and bread, gulping down a bit of water, then the Dreamless Sleep potion. A short while later the-boy-who-lived found himself again in nightmares.

He again saw Voldemort's head exploding, blood, gore, slitted throats, squashed humans.

With a start he awoke, shooting right out of his bedsheets. How was it possible to still dream if he had taken a Dreamless Sleep potion? He was hurt and confused again, luckily this time not bodily. Again there were tears streaming down his face, dripping onto his naked upper body. Why was he haunted by these dreams?

"Harry?" Asked his godfather, materializing next to him in a sitting position, a worried frown on his face. With teary eyes he stared at the Animagus, all he wanted right now was clarity on so many things.

"Am I a murderer?" He asked in a grieve stricken voice, to witch the shade looked perplex at first, but then he shook his head. "No. You are a defender. A Protector. All you wanted was to protect the wounded, defend the fallen and end the snakes idiocy once and for all." A black, misty hand reached forward and surprised them both when he could actually be touched. Thumbing away the tears on his godchild's face the possessing being reassured him that he had been in the right to kill.

"Killing is not murdering, Harry.  
To Kill is to battle, it solves the purpose of ending one live to defend and protect another. Murder is in cold blood, it solves no true purpose of life, it only ends without a sense. All murder does, is giving sick bastards the satisfaction of unjustified, unnatural greatness. You. Are. No. Murderer."

The sincerity in his godfathers red eyes smashed into him with the speed of the Knight Bus. Was he truly no murderer? But he had killed human beings and other living things. But it had been in defense of innocent life, defenseless people, had it not? 'Of course.' He answered his own question, but it was still hard to take.

"Why did the Dreamless Sleep not work?" He sobbed pathetically, trying to reign in his emotions. Sirius shrugged. "It probably was not a high enough dosage. Uther could not give a higher dose - it could have interfered with the others that are still working on your body." Logically. Then again he was still confused and he still hurt over the loss of his friends. Why did this happen to him? Why would they throw away so many years of friendship? Was it due to that wretched Jinx? The black hand wandered to his shoulder and rested there comfortingly.

"Sleep, Harry. In the morning we can go over everything, or we can leave it for a while. Whatever you prefer,_ I am with you._" The last words were said with a lot of concern. "Good night, Ray." Yawned the black mist, slurring the name of his godchild before lying down next to him, who too felt sleep claiming him slowly.

A few hours later found Harry wide awake in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place with a serious shade and a grumpy house-elf. Apparently his godfather had taken over his body and Apparated all over England, just to drop him in the Black Ancestral Home. Kreacher, who was now shooting death glares at the misty form of his former Master, had then popped inside and the two - after arguing for an hour - had come to the conclusion that both wanted Harry save. So the old elf reenacted some Black-Family protections that had been around the House for longer than the elf lived there, just to keep out everybody that was deemed a threat.

Four day's ago Kreacher had seen Hermione, Ron and a few surviving Order members trying to come inside, only for the protections to take effect and sending a few of them straight to St Mungo's. When Harry had not awoken after three day's Sirius, who apparently was now able to become semi-solid, had vanished for a few hours, only to turn up again with Uther Prewett, who then proceeded to heal Harry, who's mind had shut itself off from anything.

A few hours later and the boy-who-lived would have been the-boy-who-was-dead. Luckily the old Healer had been able to help the teenager though it had taken a lot out of the old man to rebuild a bit of Harry's mind scape, which had come crashing down on him through all the new memories he had received. Apparently he now needed to absolutely study Occlumency before doing anything else.

His mind had been in chaos, everything twisting, turning and mixing inside, before Uther had been able to calm him down enough to handle everything. Runic work, a lot of Legilimency and tons of potions later and the work was done. He had cemented a calm base inside Harry's mind, which the teen could return to, if his memories chose to come out all at once. Sadly now all of his thoughts and memories were so unprotected (the natural mind protection that everybody had had been destroyed, after all) Sirius only needed to stare into his eyes to read them all.

Not what they needed right now. So the elf and his godfather had taken the black haired teen, sat him down and plopped a lot of books in front of him just thirteen minutes ago. Which left the old elf frowning heavily due to Harry's condition.

"And I need to read them?" He asked for the tenth time in a row.

"If you want for the whole world to know everything inside your head, no. But if you wish to keep these thoughts save and sound, then yes, you do." Came the nonchalant reply, making Harry groan into his toast.

"Is there no easier way?" Pleaded he, emerald eyes as large as a kicked puppies.

"Well", hesitated Sirius, while munching on something that looked remotely like a cooked ghoul's arm, "I could teach you the basics, thought I never was really good at them. My family is one of those that gets the Occlumentic protection through our inherited magic." Harry just stared blankly at the black being until he nodded slowly, with narrowed eyes.

"Okay. But you need to train too." At the crestfallen look he elaborated. "Because, if you can solidify others might be able to get into your head.", then he smirked, "besides: It is easier if we learn together."

And so began the torturous sessions of teaching Harry the foundations of mind protection.

Truth to be told it was rather interesting to get to know what his godfather knew. It was refreshing to sit and talk about the theory of building up a house instead of being attacked constantly by a teacher he did not like. Of course Sirius compared it with the planning and execution of pranks, but it was fun none the less.

Sadly Harry was no prodigy in the mind arts and his head began to hurt again after only two hours of talking. But by then he had somewhat of a gust of it. With that he took a pain potion from the trunk provided by the Healer and mad himself comfortable on a couch in one of the many rooms the house had.

Later that day Kreacher cracked into the room Harry stayed in and placed a tablet with something to eat, namely a bowl of chicken soup, onto a nearby desk. Meanwhile Harry was sleeping a uncomfortable dream again, which woke him up a few minutes after the elf vanished again.

'Bloody Nightmares', he cursed in his head, while rubbing his bleary eyes, which then fell onto the beautiful sign of a hot bowl filled with soup. Practically with stars in his eyes the young man grabbed the bowl and ate his meal, afterward drinking his potions that stood on the same silver plate.

Now with a full belly and a not so prominent headache he stretched his sour body a little, before deciding to leave the lounge, heading for the kitchen with the silver tablet. Inside sat Sirius, his head buried unusually inside a books pages. It seemed as if his godfather truly took his words to heart about learning together. Harry put the plate onto the kitchenette where Kreacher, who was thanking him profusely, took care of it.

"Padfoot."

He greeted his family member, who hummed a greeting in return.

"Snuffles."

Again nothing but a hum.

"Sirius."

Another hum, Harry sighed and knocked on the book as if it was a door. Humorously the black mist lowered the book and stared at his godchild witty owlishly. However he pulled that look of, it was enough to make Harry chuckle a little.

"Harry, I know you have been having nightmares." The entity stated in sympathy after his godson stopped laughing. "And I know that everything we have learned from... him is a bit much. On top of that you have the memories of two old men inside your head that are currently only subsided because of the anchoring Uther did to you. But we need to sort this through. I said I am with you and that is true.

I am with you, from here till the end of the world. No. Even further than that. I lost James and Lily, got betrayed by Peter, my family hated me and Remus is now dead too. Okay, maybe I should be in the afterlife too, but I am not. And that is good." Sirius took a deep breath and continued his rant, still gesturing here and there with his hands to underline what he said.

"You lost Remus, Ron, Tonks, Hermione. Hell, you lost_ everyone_ and more. But._ You are ___not___ alone._ And if what he said is true we might be able to change it all." A little hope swung in that tone.

"We might not know when or how it happens, but we need to prepare. Even if it's not true we still have those under Dumbledore's thumb on our asses and we have to be prepared for them too. Even if I have a new form and what else I am currently missing, we still need to be ready for anything we can think of." A short pause, then: "But we need to begin at the beginning. There is no use in taking the easy road. That road would lead us to destruction, just like it lead me to prison when I tried avenging your parents by finding Peter."

"So we need to first and foremost build up our minds defenses." Concluded Harry, which was rather important to both of them if they truly had so many people against them. Sirius nodded his agreement and conducted. "We should make a list. Then we need to sort those points on the list and plan them, so we have structure to anything we do."

Harry nodded, standing up to search for parchment.

"Oh... and, Harry?" Said Sirius, still sitting on the chair, his godson turned around with a questioning look on his tired face. "No matter what, __we're in this together.___"_

* * *

_Wow.  
__That__ was not planned. It just came over me and wanted to be._

_A word of warning: Sirius and Harry are Family in this Fanfiction. There will be __**no**__ slash between the two. No matter how fluffy a scene becomes. Or at least not without at least one woman involved... then again that would be a threesome... hehehe. Nope. No slash for them two._

_Anybody forgot the title song to this Fanfiction? It does have a meaning to the fic, you know. Have you listened to it? May not be everybody's taste, but it get's the point across, hehe :3_

_By the way, I'm posting this a day prior, 'cause I'll be over in Netherlands for the next week :3_

_~Berry_


	7. Chapter Six

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words_

**Chapter Six  
Houses and Gems**

_"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.'  
I do not agree. The wounds remain.  
In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.  
But it is never gone.__"_

_\- Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy -_

The weeks following Harry's awakening were not really eventful.

Sure, there were a few tried break-ins by the Order of the Phoenix, but there was a reason it had stopped after a while. Apparently now the rest of the Order was in St. Mungos because of severe magical burns on the skin and burnout's of their own magic.

Harry thanked Kreacher tremendously after receiving those news.

Well, other than that the human, the entity and the elf had had a normal life. Every day Harry tried so build his mind scape up to a good protection, while Kreacher cooked their meals and looked after the house. Sirius on the other hand buried himself in books about Occlumency he had found in the section only available to the Head of House Black. While in there he had found another thing that had him currently ruminating through the whole house, searching every spot and every corner for a clue.

Apparently Gimmauld Place Number 12 was semi-sentient.

Yep. __Semi-sentient.__ Like Hogwarts.

This was apparently not so rare, as one would think. The book Sirius had found - 'Families, Magic and Houses' - had described that every ancient house had at least one semi-sentient residence and for the Black family it was this very building. *

What made these houses semi-sentient was a severely magical flooded gemstone residing in a hidden chamber that could be anywhere inside the house. And now the entity was searching __everywhere__ since two weeks, without getting results.

Meanwhile Harry had set the cornerstone on the anchored land that represented his subconscious mind. While said anchor-land and stone remained calm, all his other thoughts rushed by so fast it made him dizzy watching them.

So he concentrated on his foundation stone, which consisted of the happiest memories he had ever had, to center his mind. Sadly there were not too many that made him happy anymore. First memory was a simple one, the one where he had seen his parents ghosts and them telling him how proud they were of him.

Surrounding that memory he had planted other ones.

Next one, for example, was of Sirius telling Harry that he was with him. Always. After these few weeks Harry had actually build up a small area consistent of __his own__ happiest memories. But he needed help to go any further than that and with Sirius up in arms because of that __stupid__ gemstone, there was not much help he could get.

Sighing, Harry nipped at his cup of coffee he had begun to get fond of and stood up with it in in one hand and a book on Occlumency in another.

Ever since he had somewhat of a foundation on his mind base Sirius had tasked him with reading this one book that described how one could sort the multiple memories in order. Not that he was getting anywhere, mind you.

Making his way through the kitchen towards the door to get into the garden in the back - or at least he had planned to do so, if there had not been a bustling Sirius bursting into the kitchen, excitedly looking around and blubbering away.

"I found it! I know where it is!"

Blinking as his godfather rushed past him, black mist and all that, Harry tilted his head after him before putting down his cup and the book, then following him into a dark alcove where there was the cooking corner Kreacher had taken an interest in ever since Harry had hidden here almost a Year ago.

Uther Prewett had been over a few times to check up on Harry, telling them news about what was going on in the wizarding world at the moment.

Apparently after his impromptu vanishing Aurors had shown up on the Hogwarts battleground and had taken the credit of taking out every dead Death Eater, then continued to arrest those still alive while his so called 'friends' had taken the credit in taking out Bellatrix Lestrange - which had originally been a combined feat of Minerva McGonagall, Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger, with the first dying in said battle - as well as taking out Voldemort himself.

They had acted under 'Professor Dumbledore, Sirs' order and were participating in a one year long, hidden training regime with Harry Potter, to finally defeat the snake face. Apparently Harry himself had 'fled the scene' after the 'courageous Ronald Billius' had 'taken out Lord Voldemort with a simple Bombarda' and 'old snake face never knew what even hit him'.

Of course there was mentioning of the 'wise Hermione Jane' who had now 'established a deep foundation' for 'the most wise and courageous House of Granger'. Or what about the 'beautiful Ginevra Molly' who 'was not only named after the wife of King Arthur, but was also as cunning and strong'?

Harry called bullshit, as did Uther, Kreacher and Sirius.

It had been funny watching the ancient elf cursing like a sailor.

Sadly a lot of other people were buying that written shite, aside from those that were there and not bribed or jinxed. So now his name was, once again, slandered and ridiculed all over magical England.

Nothing new for him, aside from the fact that his 'friends' were about to receive the Order of Merlin, First Class, for 'Special Public Engagement' and 'Saving Magical England'.

Not that he suddenly wanted the spotlight, but they should have given credit where credit was due.  
Especially to those who had fallen in the grand, newly branded 'Battle of Hogwarts'. The list of those who had fallen was still in the making, but word had it that at least half of the former DA was dead. Including Neville Longbottom, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Lavender Brown, Padma Patil and both Creevey Brothers.

Slowly Harry, still in thoughts, followed his godfather into the alcove, where the entity was now seen rummaging through a low cupboard. Avoiding flying pans and such on reflex he came up to Sirius' side.

"Here, look!"

Exclaimed the older man excitedly, so Harry cowered next to him and took a look into the cupboard. Blinking amazed he drew nearer towards what appeared to be a rune inside the cupboards wall.

Yes. Inside, as if scratched in and then filled up with the same substance used for the object.

It was hard to see, almost invisible to the untrained eye.

Luckily he had a Seeker's eyes.

Astonished he reached out his hand toward the rune and caressed it softly. That was until a sting in his index-finger made him draw back. A startled yelp escaped his lips, eyes meeting with Sirius red ones and promptly these grew wide.

"The rune has taken your blood. It is a bloodrune ("No shit!"), keyed to those of Black blood, it will only react if you had at least one Black in about four to five generations. And I know for a fact that neither your grandparents, nor your great-grandparents were Blacks." Said the old dog, still staring into the emerald eyes of his son in seemingly all but blood.

Harry did not know either where he could have gotten the dark family's lineage from, but that did currently not concern him.

What _did _concern him, however, was the fact that the now red rune shrunk back into the cupboard wall, before two vertical red lines shot from it's middle towards the upper and lower end of the cupboard. A moment long nothing happened, but then the lines divided with a low rumble, making a tiny path behind it appear.

For a short moment both godparent and child looked at each other before nodding in agreement. No words were needed.

Sirius crept into the leeway first, shortly followed by Harry, making their way towards a tiny, dark wooden door. Creeping through it, they found themselves inside another room, this one high enough to stand in. A Lumos later they could see lots of barrels stationed at both ends. A short look inside each one showed food.

Perfectly fine food.

"Probably a stasis spell on the barrels." Murmured the entity, before taking a look at the right end wall, behind some of those barrels.

Finding only a dark wooden door, finely made and behind that a magically lightened room with only a few empty shelves, two black satin couches and a blackthorn wooden table; Sirius concluded this was one of the hideouts if there happened to be a siege on the ancestral home.

Harry concluded it could also be a perfect meeting spot for not so favorable people.

Turning around they made their way to the other side of the long room, where there too stood barrels along a wall. Had it not been for the magical light flooding in from the other room and the wand - this one was dark as hell and he wondered how Sirius had seen anything without his own - he would have not seen it, but there, on the other wall, was another bloodrune.

Reacting on instinct the teen stretched out his arm and barely touched the rune with his fingers when another slight sting made him draw back. In the semi-dark the rune and the lines glowed even more than they had before. Again a pathway opened up, this time the whole wall vanished into the equally glowing ceiling.

This one was even longer than the one before, but it ended in a huge cabinet. Harry had no clue what to do, but luckily Sirius, who could apparently see in the dark, knew what to do, ruminating through this object too, he again found a bloodrune, this one on the left side. Sighting Harry activated it, feeling slowly drained by the continued use of his blood.

Contrary to what one might think the runes drew a lot of blood out of that little sting they made.

Again a long passage opened, but this one had light at the end.  
Creeping forward, just in case there were any traps down here, the two made their way to another magically lit room. This one had three bookshelves - this time actually filled - a single black satin corner-couch, a single fine armchair from the same material and no bloodrune to be seen.

A few hours later found the two eating in the same room they had found last, exhausted from the continuous search of the day they slept on the couch. Harry still had a few nightmares, but when he was near Sirius, who stayed with him practically every night, he could get almost a hand full of hours of sleep. Still not as recovering as his should be, but it was something none the less.

He awoke in the middle of the night, after seeing Voldemort's head explode again and decided he needed to do something to banish that scene from the forefront of his mind.

So the ravenette began first to calm his mind, centering himself on the anchored foundation stone in his mind for about an hour, before searching the whole room for a bloodrune. Sirius kept sleeping, even when he, in a bout of frustration, leashed out and gave a free-fly to the books in one shelf. A few hours later he had finally found one bloody rune. It was barely there, so tiny he had nearly missed it next to a thick encyclopedia of dark creatures in the hindermost nook of a shelf.

Loosing his blood to this rune too, a slim passage way was shown as the bookshelf tilted inwards to the left. To his right was nothing but darkness, but as he crept forward few lights were lit automatically.

At the end he could make out nothing at first, then he saw a single dark wooden trapdoor. Walking down the corridor he crouched down and opened said trapdoor without a second thought, luckily there was no spring trap here. Gingerly climbing down the ladder he made his way through the self-lighting corridors that came up every time he activated a bloodrune. And, to be quiet frankly, there were frigging many with shit tons of corridors attached.

The tight halls were old, even older than the House above. Once or twice he even came out at the same spot he was before. It was ridiculous.

"The Black's sure knew how to be paranoid." Murmured the-boy-who-lived, feeling himself growing weaker with every passage.

Just when he thought this maze had no end, being even worse than the maze of the Triwizard Tournament, he finally reached a huge, dark room only lit by two candles that surrounded a humongous black stone. He was no expert on gems, but this was one hell of a huge gemstone if he ever saw one. All in all he'd say the shiny black object was as big as a Quaffle, thought not as round. Staring at the beautiful object Harry stepped towards it, ignoring the alarmed voice shouting for him somewhere behind. It had a large, spread hand imprinted on it's cool surface. Before Harry realized that he had actually touched the smooth stone something impaled his hand. Not physically, mind you. It just felt as if he had grabbed onto a bullhorn, but there was no physical evidence that it actually happened.

Blood was drained from his hand, lighting the stone up in an eery red light.

Before long he felt himself grow weaker before the draining stopped. A feeling of peace washed over him and for a short moment he thought he saw a white outline of somebody, then everything went black.

Seriously, he needed to stop waking up like this.  
His head was buried in a soft pillow as his groggy eyes opened just a slit. Again in his bedroom. This time he was alone and for a short moment he relished in the fact that there was no pain. Not even a headache. His eyes opened wide in realization, then closed shut as he delved into his mind. _'Is it possible...'_

Sadly it was not, there still was the anchor-land and foundation stone surrounded by a few orderly memories. So his mind had not magically began to heal itself, or raised it's own protection. There just was no headache anymore. Huffing indignantly he opened his eyes again, this time to find Kreacher next to his bed with a bowl of pumpkin soup, a plate full of mashed potatoes and a few potions. He nodded, as good as he could from his lying position, towards the elf and sat up. Sure he was a bit dizzy, but other than that there was nothing else.

Days later and there had been just a subtle change in the house. It was... friendly. He did not know how to describe it, there were not even real hints that anything changed at all. Everything looked the same, it was just the atmosphere that held peace.

It _almost_ felt like Howarts.

Almost as if he returned home.

Training was going better now, almost as if a boulder had been taken off his head. He could access his own memories a bit easier now - not that it was much, but it was there. He finally had begun to build his natural mind defenses - now that Sirius could help him again it was a lot easier to do, as the older one knew what to do. After the founding of his base he just had needed to remain calm and picture said base inside a large dome. Like a gigantic bubble engulfing all his memories and thoughts. The difficult part was holding that dome constantly, he could only hold it for two hours straight before he was exhausted, but his godfather said that he needed to train that into his subconsciousness before they could take the next step.

So he trained day by day to hold said dome.

Every day he could hold it a bit longer than the day before and before long he could hold it six hours a day. Proud of his accomplishment he decided it would be good to take a look into the Daily Prophet, Uther kept bringing them weekly, with every new dosage of potions for Harry.

That turned out to be a blessing too, as his body began to grow with every nutritious potion he took and every fine meal he ate. Uther had given him the okay to eat a bit more substance than just soup a few weeks ago. Now he stood at five foot nine inch and his muscles had begun growing too. His shoulders had widened a little and all in all he looked damn good. Of course that all came with drawbacks, his body hurt so he had to take pain potions, plus he had the need to go jogging to actually use the new muscles that should have been there all along. Not that it was bad, but he just was not used to this, most of all not in a hidden basement of an ancient family.

So the Daily Prophet, right?

No. Just..._ no_.

Harry wanted to bang his head against a wall.

Preferably one made out of_ feet thick steel_.

His 'friends' had been given the Order of Merlin, had taken up jobs in the Ministry that were offered to them on a silver-platter and now were spouting nonsense about him. He actually liked the one where 'Ronald Billus' accused him of 'being gay' - as if it was a crime - 'with a man called Tom Riddle'. That was just the tip of the iceberg. As if he would actually get in with Voldemort, the murderer of his parents and other countless innocent people. It was laughable, really. Beside him Sirius snorted.

"Yeah", he said, "sure. You and Tom. That's almost as impossible as me and Snivellous." Harry just shrugged to that, a resigned expression on his scarred face. Yes, he had gotten a few scars from the Battle of Hogwarts, one going from his left cheek down his neck, others were located on his chest or back.

"If they need to do this to boost their ego: Let them be." Was all he said, looking at the next article, far too accustomed to this. The next one was made by Rita Skeeter who was posting latest news on his whereabouts.

"So, apparently I have been seen in the Caribbean, riding along on a pirate ship. Then in New York City, then on Hawaii and last but not least in Japan. Lets not forget the fact that I was seen together with a 'handsome young man with dark brown hair, appearing to be his lover'." The last sentence he huffed out in annoyance with a fake high-pitched voice, leading to Sirius barking with laughter.

"They wish to slander you even further after all that has happened. But let them do what they want, they will see how far this will get them." Said the old dog after calming down. "Don't let them get to you", he warned the godson, "besides, sometime in the future we will be leaving!" It was high hope that spooked in these words, but Harry had to agree. It was hard imagining something like _that_ happening to him, so it had to be true.

He only hoped he was ready when _the Harbinger_ would finally send them back.

Sighting he nodded, threw away the Prophet and headed off to the lounge he had taken up as his meditating room. Sitting down in lotus position, as Sirius had shown him, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing alone. A few minutes later he felt his dome edify around his anchor-land and stone.

_Breath in._  
He looked around for more memories to sort.

_Breath out._  
He found the ones from his first school year tangled with those of Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle from the same Year.

_Breath in._  
He grabbed his memories and softly, slowly dragged them out from the others. At least he had gotten so good that the multiple memories overlapped in strings and thus were easier to find.

_Breath out._  
Said memory 'string' was slowly embedded next to the cornerstone in his mind.

_Breath in._  
He already had worked out his own childhood and ordered the memories around so they were in a constant line of thoughts and pictures.

_Breath out._  
On he continued.

A few hours later he had finally been through his first three years of Hogwarts and only had a mild headache for holding the dome simultaneously with the sorting. Originally Sirius had said to do them on their own, but he found it worked better and faster for him to do both at the same time. He still healed from his battle, both mental and emotional wounds, but it was going better than they had thought. Now tired the boy who lived stood and vanished up to his room to get at least a few hours of shut eye.

* * *

_* The Book is made up, but I actually like the idea of Hogwarts and other Houses being semi-sentient to protect their families.  
_

**_~ HP ~ OZ ~_**

_Óla me dear Chikorita's,_

_So this chapter we get to see how life works out after the war and how well Sirius' and Harry's training goes.  
The maze in the Black basement is pictured similar to the Forest Temple from The Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time, where you have multiple pathways connecting the rooms. I love that Temple :3 Also, the entrances were inspired by multiple others of the same franchise.  
_

_Just to be clear, the potions give Harry a grow spurt in height, wide and muscle mass, as he had been malnourished before. So he just gets up to his sub-standards he should have all along, no Hulk out of no where!_

_Yep, no Severus/Sirius or Harry/Voldemort or Harry/Tom in the foreseeable future, either._

_Actual Occlumency will be a tad bit different from what I am currently describing, here Harry just tries to get his natural shield back up that got destroyed by the double soul fusing._

_So~ _

_Netherlands was awesome, got a tan, shitload of muscle cramps, made a couple of friends and a sunburn on a place where the sun actually did not shine... my armpit, people! _

_I have been working on other projects like the upcoming Fem!Reader x Saitama Fanfiction for One Punch Man, this little piece of art you are currently reading, some Dragonball stuff and some Elder Scrolls shite I am not sure about uploading..._

_Oh! And I have an idea about the (in my opinion, lack of) magical beings, so~ I _might _start incorporating some of me dear Chikorita's into the fic, if you don't wanna be part of the mass of the HP universe, just say it. I'm starting with those who favored this fanfiction at the beginning and work my way up... again just _maybe _and only with those who want.  
You would be placed as I see fit. I _don't_ need _anything_ from you, no data what so ever, all will be made up by me!  
_But_: If you have a favorite species you wish to be, or a special Hogwarts House, School you wish to be in, or whatever, then you can give me an idea :) Some will be quiet onlookers, others just passers by. All just a little, specially mentioned OC on the side lines.  
_

_Thanks to the **Reviewers**, **Favorites** and **Followers** for your support.  
I will answer Reviwers as I see fit, but mostly per chapters author notes. If those become longer than the chapter then I will answer per PM.  
_

_I will try not to make any other chapter seem so rushed, me dear **Phoenixs**. I agree it is a bit rushed, especially when it comes to between Harry waking up to Voldemort and his marry band of misfits and the 'Final Battle'. Or when Harry drew a Bombarda from his sleves and killed Voldemort first and Nagini afterwards, the suddenly appearing Fawks and Sword of Gryffindor. Or when-  
Yes, I agree, but a rewrite of the Chapter(s) is not planned in the forseeable future and bits of those were actually planned like that (*cough* Fawks *cough*). None the less: thanks for pointing that out :)_

_Misbehaving labtops are a plague, me dear **Raicheda.** Luckily, my Ace currently doesn't. ;) Nice to see that some readers actuall _do_ read the notes of a writer._

_Thanks for the encouragement, me dear **Alannah**, I hope it progresses to me dear Chikorita's liking.  
_

_~Berry_

__Fun Fact: Yes, Chikorita as in the Pokemon. I own a rather badass one by the name of Chika, she does kick some candy ass :3__


	8. Chapter Seven

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking  
_

_Hello = Special Words_

_/Hello/ = Letter  
_

**Chapter Seven  
Timed Travel**

_"Even if it turns out that time travel is impossible, it is important that we understand why it is impossible.__"_

_\- Stephen Hawking -_

A few months into his training had Harry back with a natural mental shield.

It was a bit shaky and easily broken, but at least nobody could see into his thoughts just because their eyes met - even if briefly. Sirius had tested it with his strained Legilimency, which he had to learn in his former Auror training, and found out it was at least stable enough to withstand a few probes. Harry was far from being a master in the art, but it was a beginning.

Harry was training to cement and harden said shield, before laying another stratum over the first one, which was the first step to true Occlumency. Once he had the hardened first layer and the second one up to good standards the teen could begin with hiding his multiple memory-strings behind his shields in his mind-landscape.

Though Sirius said it was not usual for everybody to have an actual landscape. Some got them with years of experience, extensive training, or through family magic. So Harry's was a by product of the double soul fusion, holding triple the amount of memories and experiences. Plus the fact that he had to be centered in his own mind.

Well it wasn't as if he ever had been normal to begin with anyway...

There was another plus to his and Sirius lives: The House of Family Black. Grimmauld Place 12 was keeping them save and sound.

In fact they were so save even Uther, who had later on been connected to the newly established wards, had trouble coming back every time he left. Which was ridiculous on Harry's 18th birthday as he had actually made a delivery for Sirius, as well as getting the-boy-who-lived a gift of his own.

Other than that the two of them had scoured through the first parts of the old Black Library that contained, more or less light labeled, magical books on different magic that could help them in a fight. Luckily the Black family had a lot of books handy. So between the daily Occlumency training, the leaps Harry ran around in the halls surrounding the gemstone in the hidden basement; and the checkups from Uther Prewett, the two trained light, dark or gray spells theoretically and practically.

The fact that there were still some books in the hidden reading room that held even darker magic than what Sirius was willing to teach Harry, had also it's pros and cons. Pro because Harry had already a headache by the end of the first week of them training, con because his knowledge would be limited.

'Huh, seems as if Hermione did rub off on me...' He thought as he stood in front of his godfather with his wand drawn. The entity stood in front of the young man, black mist emanating from his solidified form and holding a wand-like 14 Inch long thing in his right hand, waiting for his godson to make the first move.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry began the fight, they did not bother with proper dueling as they both now were, more or less, war veterans who wanted to fight for their lives. Granted, the spell he used was rather light, but they had agreed to use their whole arsenal, minus any unforgivables.

Sirius ducked underneath the spell, his mist bellowing like a cloak behind him, red eyes fixed onto Harry's still growing frame.

"Reducto!" The blue curse sailed towards the teen at break neck speed. Using his seeker reflexes Oliver Wood had hammered into his muscle memory, Harry jumped out of the way while throwing another curse at the form of his godparent.*

"Sectumsempra!" Luckily Sirius, who had estimated his godsons reaction had a strong shield up in time to block the dark gray curse. Soon the colors of the spells, jinxes and curses filled the air in the re-modeled drawing room, vanishing in shields the two had put up around the remaining furniture. From red to green to blue to black.

They had not lied when they had agreed on their whole arsenal.

As Harry ducked away from a Entrail-Expelling Curse he did not see the stunner headed to his new position and was soon out like a light. Luckily for him the entity had send a reviving charm at his downed form. Soon both sat on the ground, panting heavily.

Kreacher popped into the room, a silver platter in his hands, with delicious smelling food on it, somehow knowing when their battle had ended.

Digging in with delight the two men ate like there was no tomorrow.  
During his recovery Harry had developed a rather frightening tendency of gluttony, as if his tummy was a black hole. Due to their connection Sirius unfolded similar eating habits. At their glutton festival Sirius told him about the years the teen had spend in the trance like state of the Puppeteers Sonata, only for said teen to tell the other that he remembered that time exactly, if a bit wooly. Somehow the mind was not as effected as the caster probably would have liked.

"Hmm, I had a feeling that was the case back when I had first told you", admitted the Black while munching on a chip.

"You know Harry, this was not even a true battle. In a true battle everything goes, from prank objects like those swamps the Weasley twins created to dark magical rituals or rune traps. As long as one knows how to go about it one can do anything in battle."

The other listened in to his godfathers speech, a beagle half hanging out of his mouth, still chewing the other half. He knew that. The books on warfare had been clear that to battle meant to kill. Besides he had been rather creative with that Bombarda to the head. Yes, he somewhat came clear with the fact that he had killed Voldemort rather bloodily, even if it took time.

"Oh", there was a thought that hit him in that moment, "Did you read in The Prophet that I apparently am the new Dark Lord?"

It was true, in the last Prophet Uther had bought, the headlines screamed bloody murder about him. Said he was practicing dark arts and that, when he had 'tried' to kill Voldemort with a Bombarda, he had begun to show his evil tendencies.

"Yes, it was hard not to notice. Did you read the part of Ron Weasley overtaking Georges busyness?" He got a negative head shaking. Harry had not read that, as he had thrown away the useless paper after reading the headlines.

"Apparently George was depressed after Fred's death, his Jokeshop was financially nearly in ruins. So Ron helped him 'out of the goodness of his heart', a couple of days ago the lone twin was found dead in his apartment. Apparently suicide, but I call bullshit." The entity took a deep, calming breath, he had liked both twins so much. Harry fared no batter as he crushed his glass of lemon juice in his hand (with a bit of magic), prompting Kreacher to repair the damage and fawning over the teen with the now bleeding hand.

"Anyway, I wanted to discuss with you what we should do once we turn back."

Harry Shrugged at his godfathers question. Expertly ignoring the pain and the fact he was dripping wet, or the fawning elf. Right now he was trying to have as much knowledge as possible so he could defend himself.

"I have no clue. That is if we even turn back. I had my suspicions that what happened was only a dream, but since you know of the same event I suspect it was not. So... if we turn back it stands to question when we would land. Sadly we have no idea when the Harbinger sends us back."

Sirius, this time munching on his desert, nodded along the teens words.

"You are right. But we should at least make an outline for the things we should be doing. We could, for example, train our resistance to the Sonata so we do not end up with it again." He stuffed another spoon full of vanilla mash in his mouth, swallowing it with delight.

"That is a brilliant idea, Sir. Maybe-"

"Did you just call me 'Sir'?"

"Well, it was really more like a shortening of your name." Harry shrugged. "Now, maybe we could find a way to detect those who are under the spell and try to get them out of it. We know for sure that Remus, Tonks, Snape and Fred were under the Sonata, as they ran right to the next best danger afterward - thanks to that stupid second spell. But we need to find out for how long and since when. If we train ourselves to be immune to the song we can pretend to still be under it, so we have an easier time helping those who still are manipulated. Besides, even if they are under that wretched spell we have no telling if they truly are on our side, right? We don't know for sure if people like Ron or Hermione were subdued, as you put it. Either for not wanting to be paid, or for not wanting to be my friends."

The last part was said with much sorrow, it still hurt him to know that his two best friends might had not wanted him for him, but instead for something else.

"You are right, Harry. We need to find out more about the Sonata, if I remember correctly there was something on it in the hidden department of the library." Where they had not been to, yet. "But, we still have to talk about what we do when we get back. I think it would be best to meet up as early as possible." Pointed out the old dog, to which the younger man nodded silently. Seeing his godson's mood, which was a bit dark right now, the entity tried to cheer him up.

"Come on, Ray, we have a book to find." Harry reacted to the quipped nickname a little too late as Sirius fled the room in giggles.

Naturally a few hours later found the twosome in the hidden part of the official Black Library snooping around the books, a heavy stack of already read books placed on the table. Harry sat on the stool next to it. Both were of course made from blackthorn - as if the Blacks would take anything less than absurdly high costing magical wood. In his hand was a tome on soul magic.

"Hey, Sirius, did you know that the myth of Gingers being soulless monsters from hell was based on the fact that the first victim of a Dementor was a Weasley?"

Came the random question that had laid on his tongue since the teen had read the part about the creation of Dementors. Which apparently were wizards cursed by death and magic for their sins with foul, evil soul magic, taking their souls and making them hunger for what they would never possess again.

"Eh? Really? I guess I never really read everything like my mother had wanted me to. Only those I found interesting or as a cover for when she came here to see if I truly was doing what she wanted me to do." Shrugged the shaggy haired male from behind a book on ancient magic.

Sadly they found nothing in those books and moved on to the next two.

Alas, it was a few days, lots of nerves, books, training sessions and headaches later they finally found a clue. By then Halloween had come knocking on the door, with yet another attack on the House by the Order.

Luckily the House was rather vicious when it came to protecting it's inhabitants, breaking wand arms or ripping magic from people; leaving them either dead, near dead or a squib.

Harry felt sorry for the attackers, but Sirius said that it was their own fault, as the House had actually warned them beforehand. Apparently that was why nobody ever was dumb enough to outright attack the ancestral home of the Blacks. Ever.

The only downside to this was that the Order now knew that somebody lived inside Grimmauld Place.

Well, nothing they could do about it now.

On to the book that held a clue to the Puppeteers Sonata.

It was as Sirius had said: To defend from the spell-song one had to have great magical reserves, a strong will and mind or a personality disorder. To become immune to the spell - as it was almost like the Imperio - one had to train their mind and magic, as a strong will was something one had to have naturally or create with very hard work worth half a lifetime.

So Harry had the brilliant idea of Sirius and him practicing with the Imperio to strengthen their resistance to mind control.

"The only difference between the Sonata and Imperio is the fact that the Imperio lets you 'hear' the voice of the caster as suggestive suggestions in your head. Whereas the Sonata makes you believe the suggestions of the caster are your very own thoughts. It doesn't help that one can even project their own, or manipulate the others, feelings with that awful song."

Summarized Sirius for his godson as his eyes traveled the page that described the actual magical song. Which could be played by any instrument as long as the musician was magical and had cast the incantation on the victim and the tool.

"Bloody Hell." Was the only thing that came from the jumbled mess that was the teens mind.

"Bloody Hell, indeed." Grumbled the godfather. "Lets eat something, then get to bed. Tomorrow we start with the resistance and immunity training."

"Alright, but I want to know something", conceded the young male. The entity tilted his head in a questioning manner, prompting the black-haired teen to ask his question. "How does one know if they have a strong will or multiple personalities?"

Humming the mist answered. "There are two methods that I know of to find out if you have a strong will. You can either battle off the Imperius Curse with struggling, or...", Sirius stopped shortly.

"What?" Demanded the last Potter.

"... well... I'll tell you that one when I think you are old enough. Now, with multiple personalities it's not that easy. As far as I know it is something acing to lycanthropy where you don't have your self-control when turned. I don't have a Muggle doctors degree, so I can't really explain it any further." With that the Black turned tail, leaving a curious teen behind. Sadly, no matter how much he questioned his godfather he never got an answer for the part the old dog would not tell.

His reasoning? 'The training needed to start'.

And start they did.

Still training their Occlumency by meditating and the occasional unsuspected mind-probes. Or training their spells and battle techniques - all often put together - they soon infused their resistance training with the battles they fought, demolishing room by room until they were practicing in the entrance hall on a whim.

Kreacher had multiple field days repairing the broken windows, shattered chairs, couches, lockers and cupboards. Not to mention the swamps or dung bombs the two began to use in their rather vicious battles.

One time Harry had ended up with a chicken head and slug arms, due to Sirius inner prankster. Another time he old mud was chased by transfigured female dogs in heat.

It was good to laugh once in a while

Day's of training turned into weeks, the House getting attacked on occasion.

Weeks turned into months as the two destroyed furniture, once even Mrs. Blacks screaming painting with a dark spell.

When months turned into a year, then two, Harry found himself with a mind-shield that was resisting Sirius even stronger probes and sorted memories from three different lives - two of of which he still could not access.

Both had reflexes like antelopes and spell arsenals as big as the Eiffel tower. (Might be exaggerating here...)

Harry, now twenty, found himself up at a height of six feet and three inch and a good muscled body, not to thick, but not to small either. It actually complimented his Seeker build even more.

Sirius on the other hand had finally gotten a grip on his form, now being able to remain in a solid human shape for about a constant month with only a days rest within Harry's hand. He had also gained new abilities.

It was almost as if he was what myths called a wraith. Or a specter.

He could turn invisible at a whim and had (only) slight control over nearby shadows. The one real great ability was his eyes that could detect some magic, almost like the fabled mage-sight.

Both now were immune to the Imperio Curse, sadly both had no idea if that was the case with the Sonata as they both did not want to enslave the other to their will with no idea how to stop it correctly. Besides, they had destroyed the only instrument in the house, the piano, in one of their battles so much even Kreacher had not been able to repair it.

On a darker note:  
Uther Prewett had been found dead around Christmas the past year.

The outside world was getting darker, even though the Dark Lord had been dead for nearly two years, Dumbledore's manipulations turned everybody against each other. There was only distrust found, even in Families like the Weasleys.

The last they had heard Bill and Fleur Weasley, together with their child Victoire, had been under cynicism of their Family so much they had to flee the country on New Years Eve. It was pettily reasoned in the Prophet with 'Bill and Fleur were both monsters, one scratched by a Werewolf, the other a born monstrosity'.

Harry and Sirius did not leave the House after that, even thought their previous excursions were ever so brief.

It was a tragedy like no other as the two watched from afar as magical Britain crumbled in on itself. The children of Death Eater's were declared outlaws, hunted and killed in cold blood. The Goblins, Werewolves, Vampires and other Magical beings that could do nothing against their status were hunted down.

Pelt, teeth and other body parts were sold in shops for low prices, potion ingredients or prized trophies to those who could afford them. Gringotts was overtaken by wizards, no money was to be given out to any other being than the owner of the vault, so the duo could no longer send Kreacher to fetch some gold and meals.

The last herd of Thetrals in all of England had been hunted to extinction, the house-elfs were near to that point, just like the Hippogriffs, the Unicorns or other creatures. Hagrid, the friendly half-giant that could have never hurt a fly, had been killed in one of the wizards raids. His head was now on show in the Ministry's entrance hall together with other species, even Muggles. They now were free to hunt, ever since Kingsley had been killed in his position as Minister of Magic by a Muggle.

All in all Britain, or rather the whole of England - not only the magical part - was in a riot.

And it was a riot that nobody was inclined to stop.

Sighing heavily the two turned to their mugs of Firewhiskey they had found in the hidden rooms. It was Halloween once again and they did not feel like partying. Courtesy of what had happened every year on that day. So they sat there, drinking, pitying themselves.

At least until there was a gigantic poof, a white cloud fluffing between their comfortable armchairs where the flask of Whiskey stood on the table, where there laid a scroll now.

Staring at each other the twosome shrugged. One of them picking up the scroll sure that it was no trap, as the wraith had detected no ill intended magic on it, and opened the yellowish paper to read out the following words.

__/Alright maggots, listen up!__

__As I made clear a few chapters ago I will not turn up physically ever again, so the maggot writing this story of yours has come up with a plan to ensure everything she's planned will come to fruition.__

__So, now I have written this stupid thingy here to tell you to get ready mentally. To leave the reality you know behind to live a second chance. I know it is cliché, but I don't give a fuck.__

__I can only throw you two so far back. Originally this was planned for only Harry, but the mud just had to butt in. The original plan was to throw Harry back to the beginning of his live, fresh out of his mothers womb, sadly I did not have the power to do that to begin with.__

__Plus it would be awfully dull. Don't cha think?__

__So, maggots, instead of throwing Harry fourteen years into the past as I originally planned with the power I collected, I have to divide that power and throw the both of you seven years back. Meaning into Harry's 13 year old body. Lucky for you I can add on a few months so you will end up on the brats birthday instead of Halloween. __

__You might be right in time to unseal the sea dog. Thought you might need the joystick of doom and it's companions, the cheese cape and the onion ring, on your journey, so you better get them!__

__Convenient, right?__

__Well, maggots, it was nice meeting you. Or not. Whatever.__

__Get ready by Zero o'clock. __

__Ta-da.__

__Ann-Mary /  
__

"Okay", said Harry, drawing out the word.  
As one the two turned to face the old (blackthorn) clock standing at the wall behind them. It was one minute before midnight. Paling rapidly they realized what it meant.

"Oh shit!" Cursed Sirius shortly, trying to breath deeply in and out as his godson tried the same, as to calm down and get mentally ready. Sadly it did nothing to calm the two. A white light shone bright in the dark rooms of Grimmauld Place Number 12, when it died down Harry James Potter, as well as his companion Sirius Orion Black, had vanished without a trace.

* * *

_* This sentence sounds _so_ wrong on so many levels... ;)_

**_**~ HP ~ OZ ~**_**

_Ola, me dear Chikorita's!_

__This chapter may or may not comes out a little late... sorry.  
So the Time Jump happened here, was about time I say. Can't stand it if it takes too long for the plot to twist. Sooo~ What will happen now?__

__Yes, I get the letter sounds barmy, but it's intentional and I believe you already have figured out what the hell the harbinger is saying. Anybody got the reference to Team Four Star's DBZ Abridged?  
Sorry for the tipping errors in the Authors Note in the last chapter, it was spontaneous and hastily written.__

__To me dear ____**Rewievers**__

__Thanks, me dear ____**Rosalind**____, I thought there were awfully little to no Fanfictions with semi-sentient Houses; most giving only Hogwarts something assembling to a sentience, others give the poor school too much of a mind. She won't be taking physical form in this Fanfiction, like in some others, but still be responsive. Your Slytherin preference is noted, thought it may take some time until I make some characters appear ;) __

__If this is such a jumbled mess, me dear ____**Sturmundsterne**____, would you be so nice as to point out how exactly? Your comment was a bit too short and if my readers don't tell me what they find wrong I can't change that in future chapters. Though I recently read through the first few chapters again and cringed at the errors... yeah, will work on those, but not now. Thank you, none the less, for your critique - it's always welcome. :)__

__fluff__

__~ Berry__

__P.S.: In the next Chapter a **new Arc** begins!  
And I will have to wait for my new timetable to see if I still will be able to post two chapters each month... only from October onward! so there will be one other this month :3  
__


	9. Arc One - Chapter One

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words  
_

_/Hello/ = Letter_

* * *

__**\- Arc One: Deception -**__

* * *

**Chapter One  
Happy Birthday**

_"On your birthday  
We wish you that  
whatever you want most in life,  
it comes to you,  
just the way you imagined it,  
or better.__"_

_\- Happybirthdaywishes-images dot com -_

He felt groggy.

Like a slug.

As if his body was not really his own.

As if he had outgrown it a long time ago.

It was dreadful. Awful, even.

Besides that, he could feel hart springs drilling into his backside. Familiar springs he had felt the last time about three or four years ago. He moved his aching body to the right, the bed creaked and shook.

Yep.

Definitely.

As his jumbled head tried to make sense of his sudden situation of lying in a bed he should not be in, as he had stayed with Sirius in Grimmauld Place, he dazedly realized that there had been a massage from someone he thought of as a dream for quiet some time. The only conclusion his clearing mind came up with was that the time travel had actually happened.

__'Fun-frigging-tastic. We're back here again.'__ He thought sarcastically in realization, a groan escaping his sour throat. His voice, as far as he could make out, was young, grating and hoarse. __'Bloody Puberty.'__

Besides the fact that his body did not want to do as he did, he had no idea of time and space right now. Harry wanted to move his right arm so he could touch his aching face.

The arm moved, alright.

But instead of gently putting his hand over his eyes he backhanded himself in the right one.

Another groan escaped him, before he decided to actually open his eyes so he could see his surroundings. Maybe his body needed some time to adjust.

The room he fond himself in was definitely his old one with the Dursley's, the wallpaper was peeling off, the ceiling was a ugly yellowish white color and, as he moved his head to the side, he could make out the broken shelf that was his desk. It was as tiny as he remembered it being.

After a while of lying there, trying to control his body properly the teen heard light knocking on the window, almost as if an owl was pecking at it to get his attention... and it was getting more frantic by the minute. So he decided to give it a try and stand up.

What he managed was a wobbling sitting position, that had his head spinning as if it was a carrousel.

Somehow he managed to stop the spinning after a while. Only then did he begin to move into a standing position while concentrating on a permanent spot on his desk. When he finally managed to stand, albeit with his hands groggily keeping his body up, he moved his head to stare out of the window where three owls greeted him. One a unconscious, great gray owl, another a huge brown owl and the third a snowy white feathered beauty, who's amber eyes burned into his own.

"Hedwig." He said breathlessly. His dear snowy owl. Just now he realized how much he had missed her in the future-past. Or was it past-future? Whatever. This scene drew memories to the forefront of his mind. Memories of his third year. Was he really in the past? It all felt unreal.

As fast as his dizziness allowed he opened the window for the three package carrying owls. The middle one, Harry fleetingly recognized as Errol the Weasley family owl, was dropped onto the bed with a low thud. Even if Harry despised the family at the moment, the owl he pitied for carrying so much heavy stuff. Stupid Ron probably did not think of the poor animal. A low hoot took him out of his thoughts.

It was his beautiful Hedwig, he might have been exaggerating, but in the shine of the moon her white feathers glowed ethereal. At that moment she was the most beautiful thing for his sore, war hardened eyes.

That was until she nipped his hand when he did not react.

"Ouch!" He yelped, before rubbing the sore spot with a pout. "What did I do?"  
He asked, gazing at his stern pet, who just shuffled a little, bringing his attention to the knocked out owl lying on his bed, bound to its feet by strings was a heavy looking package. It all felt so real.

Taking pity on the unconscious owl he took of the bundle from Errol's legs. Then he took the old one over to Hedwigs cage where the gray owl took few gulps of water, afterward giving a thankful chirp.

Harry set him down and turned around to the remaining two owls. First releasing the brown owl from its package and the sealed Hogwarts letter, before doing the same with Hedwig, combing softly through her feathers while muttering his thanks. Ever the crafty owl she coughed on to his unusual behavior, settling herself on his shoulder she nibbled his ear affectionately, not leaving him.

Leaning a little into his pet a soft sigh escaped him.

__'Yep, definitely missed her.'__ He thought, before sitting down on his chair with the three packages.

Maneuvering slowly, not to make anything uncomfortable for Hedwig he opened the first one, freeing a gift in golden wrapping paper and a birthday cart he could barely remember. Lifting an eyebrow he cursed himself for not checking his mail for any curses. Sadly he could not tell anything different so he would have to wait for his godfathers arrival.

Sighting he went on with his task, rediscovering the article on the Weasley's and Egypt. Silently stabbing them with his glare (aside from Bill and Charlie), while considering how to deal with them accordingly. Them and Pettigrew, who was still in his form as Ron's pet rat Scabbers.

There came nobody to Harry's mind who deserved anything more than a pet Death Eater than the Weasley's. Maybe he was a bit vindictive. Maybe.

Maybe he was really in the past, at the beginning of his third year...

He was tempted to ignore the letter from Ronald, but decided it was best to reread it, just to know what was written. Chuckling in reminder of the phone-call, he was also reminded that his former best mate got a new wand this year and that ol' Percy was Headboy now. How right the git had been when he had left the family Harry noticed just now.

Maybe he could do something with the least liked Weasley?

This one had not done the things the one in the past-future had committed. Sure, there was potential here to do the same, but if steered in the right direction, maybe this one would be less of a pain in the ass. Definitely noteworthy.

The cheap Sneakoscope was placed upon his desk, not alerting him to anybody untrustworthy in his room. The teen would have to buy a more sensitive one, once he got to Diagon Alley; maybe he should take a page out of Mad-Eyes book... .

The next pack held the Broomstick Servicing Kit he had gotten from Hermione, as well as one of her ridiculously long letters. But it reminded him to subscribe to the Daily Prophet, just to know what the idiots were writing. She too asked him if he could be at Diagon for the last weeks of the holiday.

Well, he would be going to the Alley - with his new found pet Snuffles and a few weeks before them. Maybe the twosome would play along with the charade until they could find out who exactly had been Sonataed by Dumbledore and who did it voluntary, or for monetary gain.

That is if the teenager did not loose his cool beforehand.

Picking up the last package he studied the scrawl on the wrinkled paper, reminiscing the gentle and good, but poor Hagrid. If the half giant had not been such a devoted follower of Dumbledore Harry would take him under his wing any day of the week.

The black-haired teen remembered the biting Monster Book that had been send rather well. And a bit fondly, considering the fact nobody from his year had been able to actually open it. Maybe he could use it in some way...?

Eyes flying over the birthday cart he deciphered the scribbled words. If he did not know it better Harry would say that the gentle half-giant was secretly a cryptographer. At least he did not send a pack of his self-made cookies.

Gazing at the last envelope he wearily opened it, for it was obviously from Hogwarts. Knowing that this letter was written just like the last seven, plus the declaration of consent for Hogsmead and the list of books for his third year in the Scottish School, he laid the first and last mentioned down on his desk, while studying the agreement which had to be signed by one of his guardians.

He actually had an idea how he could get his dear 'Aunty Tuney' to sign this lovely piece of parchment...

Lost in thoughts he stroked his pets soft feathers. Harry could actually get use to her sitting on his shoulder. Maybe her stern glare would scare away pesky morons, who knew?

Sudden dread filled him when he remembered what had happened shortly after this birthday.

Aunt Marge would be coming over with that little monster she called Ripper. A annoying little bulldog. Last time-line she had insulted his parents, making him lose his cool, blowing her up like a balloon. Then again he had been a hormonal teenage boy without any training in Occlumency. Not that he was a master now, but he was better at keeping his calm and thoughts to himself.

__'Fuck'___, _he thought as it got to him that he was once again a hormonal teenager. It would be bloody awful to go through puberty again. Ah, well, it wouldn't be a picnic either for Sirius to get through the after effects of Azkaban.

At least they were almost equally screwed.

An alerted hoot came from his shoulder, making him look up into the wide gray eyes of a light feathered Barn Owl. It blinked slowly, turning its head.

__'This didn't happen last time.'__ Shot through Harry's mind, blinking back owlishly. Hobbling over the apparent male remained cautious about this snowy beauty on the humans shoulder, lowering slightly in short-termed submission.

Bound to his feet there was a tiny package, waiting to be taken.

Wondering if his Sneakoscope would alert him about cursed objects too, the teen reached for the cords wearily. This probably wasn't his best idea, but he untied the package, then waiting for the unfamiliar owl to fly away. But he stayed.

Humming in thought he opened the wrinkled, filthy paper and stared tranquilized at the unexpected writing. How long had he been here for him to actually write Harry something? He gazed at the alarm-clock on his nightstand; it was two thirty in the morning. So he had been at this for two and a half hours? (If he woke up at zero o'clock, he couldn't tell.) Damn that was unexpected. It was Sirius who had written him. It was a short, riddled letter, which read the following words:

__/ Pup, ___(How many times had he punched him for that one?)_

__have gone swimming for a few day's, coming over to flower's playground. Meet you there, same time. The owl is borrowed, give him something to eat and let him be.__

__Snuffles /  
__

Which meant the old dog would be at their former meeting spot at the old playground at Magnolia Crescent. If he read this correctly. Meanwhile the Barn Owl had flown over to Hedwigs cage, taken a few refreshing gulps of water and a bit from the snacks under the females stern gaze.

A yawn escaped him, as the male owl finally flew into the night. He felt tired, probably due to the time-travel stuff, so he rose from his chair. Hedwig fluttered over to where Errol resided and made herself comfortable, still eying her strangely behaving human. Taking off his glasses the teenaged time-traveler laid down on his bed once more, fast asleep before his head hit the pillow.

When he awoke the next morning it wasn't even eight.  
Groaning he hid his head in the cushion. He was __so__ not ready to face this day. Not Marge. Nor Petunia, Vernon or Dudley. At least not this Dudley, who had not matured yet.

Hearing movement he turned to gaze at his snowy owl, who cleaned her feathers in peace. It was a calming sight to behold and Harry observed her for quiet some time, before he heard first movement through the house.

Uncle Vernon's stomping feet made their way over to the bathroom, while Aunt Petunia's light step wandered the floor and down the stairs. Probably going to the kitchen. Internally the teen was wondering how he knew who was who, when he had not heard from his family in nearly four years. Harry rubbed his sleepy eyes, still feeling a bit worn. None the less, he had to get up.

__'Do I really need to?'__ He thought to himself, a bit whiny and actually feeling like flailing. So what if he acted like a spoiled brat right now. Maybe the three lonesome years with Sirius and Kreacher had spoiled him a little. He really did not need to be treated like crap. Not that everybody else treated him different, aside from the two.

Maybe he should vanish and let the wizards search for him in a panic.

On second thought; he really should do that. What was in for him if he stayed? Nothing, that's what. Then again it would be fairly easy to find him if they ever came to the conclusion that Fawks could go anywhere. Weren't there any kind of wards against that? He should have asked Bill...

Maybe he should take on a new identity and hire the only Weasley who hadn't had a shot at him. That was an idea. (Yes, even Charlie had done something...)

Then again it would be far too suspicious if Harry effing Potter would vanish and another person came up out of nowhere. But he needed freedom. He needed somebody who could help him. Somebody who would acquire anything he needed or wanted and asked no questions. The Goblins? They had helped him with Sirius in the past-future. So why not contact them, when he would be in Diagon Alley rather soon?

The question was: What would his new name be? James Evans?  
Nah, that was too obvious.

A female Potter or Evans?  
No, he had no clue how to change his gender without being a Metamorph. He wasn't the best at naming, really. Apparently his father had been neither, as the diseased Potter had named Sirius Animagus form.

He was a descendant of the Peverells, right?  
But that name would draw far too much attention when it came up after a couple of centuries.

Sighing he gave in to his fate. For now.

He had to get up one day.

So he sat up, glaring at the room. It hadn't done anything, but it was his prison. Getting ready for the day he decided he really needed new cloth. Only for his new identity. They had decided, one night in September, that he would not draw too much attention. Kreacher then had supplied them with Firewhisky. Enough said.

Meanwhile Hedwig and Errol (who had stayed the night) watched the teen glare at his clothes. What was up with him? Had he finally come to the obvious conclusion that his cousins stuff was too ugly? They could have told him that long ago. Not for the first time both owls wished they could speak.

Finally deciding on a simple (if too large and ugly) gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans the teen sighed one more time, readying himself for what was to come. So with one last deep, calming breath he opened the door and walked out into the hallway. It was still colored in an ugly color between peach and salmon pink. Somehow he missed the Pepto-Bismol pink of Umbitch. At least that gave him eye-cancer and not the need to go hang himself.

Ignoring the shiver running down his spine he walked down the hall with as quiet a step as he could manage. Sadly the last step of the stairway still creaked loudly. Especially in the morning.

So he found himself at the stern glare of Aunt Petunia, a spoon in hand standing in the door-frame to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia." He said, loud and clear as to not give her a reason to bash him. At least not too hard. Glare intensifying she turned on her heel and stalked into the kitchen. __'What the?'__

He was sure she still would have said something to degrade him.

__'Hmm, don't look a gifted horse in the mouth.'__ So he followed her, even if he actually wanted to run away as fast as he could. The Kitchen, too, was as he remembered it being. Pink and white and boring as hell. Merlin, even Gimmauld Place was more exciting.

"Boy", she spat, "make breakfast. Egg and bacon."

Maybe he should hex her six way's to Sunday, or maybe he should prank her. Or he could just hand their punishment over to his godfather. The old mud still was pissed at them for their audacity to treat him like a Malfoy house-elf.

He answered with a monotone 'Yes, Ma'am', while refraining from saluting. Working on auto-pilot he made a deliciously smelling breakfast, which attracted both Dursley men.

Dudley still was his unhealthy five chinned, fat self; contrary to what had become of him in the past-future. Damn, he needed another nickname for the last time-line.

Uncle Vernon was still an ugly fuck. No talking through roses there. He was looking like a fat walrus with a mustache of a sausage. Pardon his English.

He gave an extra large serving of bacon to Vernon and more egg to Dudley - he still remembered who liked what better. Aunt Petunia got a mild variation of their dishes with a extra prepared serving of salad. Eying him suspiciously the family ate while he sat by their side, looking innocent.

Yeah, he had something planned. Harry still needed their permission for Hogsmead. Yes, he had thought of faking the signature, but it was only a last resort.

The teen had gotten a bit of bacon, a toast, a bit of salad and half an egg for the prepared breakfast. When the mail came he got it without question, handing Vernon his paper and Petunia a letter.

__'Smile and wave, Harry. Smile and wave.'__ Was his mantra. Somehow he thought of penguins while doing it.

He sat there, eating slowly. Uther Prewett had told him to savor every bite, to eat slowly, so his meals would saturate him a little more.

Meanwhile Dudley had turned on the welcome-to-the-summer-holidays television. Which his parents had gifted to him, after he had complained about the TV in the living room and the long way between it and the fridge.

News were on, showing the picture of a shabby black haired escapee. Again the reporter warned the population about a 'armed, dangerous convict' called Sirius Black. Harry refrained from snorting. All eleven year old wizards were armed and his godfather was about as dangerous as the next best Death Eater. How did the Muggle government know about the prison break? Were they contacted by the Minister of Magic, did they know of the magical world? Or were they warned through whatever means there were and had no clue?

Listening halfheartedly to his uncles ranting about his godfathers shabby looks the boy-who-time-traveled rattled down his mantra. __'Smile and wave...'__

It was around quarter past nine when Vernon decided to get to the train-station, as Marge would be coming at ten. Deciding not to say anything the teen agreed to his uncles three conditions - even the one with St. Brutus's Secure Centre. He stood up and got to washing the dishes in silence, observing the rest of his family from the edge of his perception. Dudley did nothing but eat and watch TV, while Petunia read her letter. Vernon finally got up, so Harry watched his relative wobble over to the door. When the entrance-door closed behind him and the motor of the car was heard, the teen decided now was a good time to speak with his dear Aunty 'Tuney.

Drying the last pan, stowing it away in a cupboard, he turned to the kitchen table where the other two Dursley's sat in silence. He planted himself next to a calm Dudley, then turned to Petunia, who was poking around in her salad. Left in thoughts. Whatever she was thinking about, his question startled her out of it.

"Aunt 'Tuney?" Yes, he used his mothers nickname. Sue him.

She starred at him with huge (but boring) brown eyes. Well, he could actually make out flecks of green here and there, now that he starred right back. Here recently dyed brown hair looked a bit disheveled, blonde suited her far better. Brown made her look like a horse with a wig. When no answer came he decided to just speak.

"Third years at school are able to go to the nearby village...but I would need your permission to do so. Could you sign the paper, please?" Dudley did not pay attention to them, far too engrossed in a new episode of Tom and Jerry. His aunt blinked a few times, still staring at his emerald eyes.

He was aware his eyes were his mothers and the looks his fathers. It got on his nerves after Sirius had called him James one too many times. Now he would definitely take on a look of his own, maybe do something with his hair. Maybe a piercing? Or an earring? Tattoos? Definitely other clothing, screw 'only for his alternate identity'.

"Yes." Was the surprising answer, sadly he smelled a but coming. "But you will have to behave with Marge. Stick to the story, do_ not _leash out. We will see afterward." He nodded along her conditions, until the last part. He needed that signature now.

"But, Aunt 'Tuney, I could __easily__ forget some of the details... maybe let something slip..." Merlin's beard, he needed to practice his bribery skills. Wasn't he twenty? Obviously not in body, but surely in mind. Petunia paled.

"No. You _will_ behave!" Was her panicked remark. Harry shook his head negatively.

"I don't know, Aunt 'Tuney. It's so easy to forget. Saint_ Whatsitcalled_ sounds rather much like Hogwash to me."

He shot her a sly look, happy with her rising panic.

"And I can be __so__ nice. You saw today, right? I might be able to say nothing at all, all week, if you sign the paper. When Aunt Marge asks, I will be from Saint Whatsit, not Hogwarts."

Okay, maybe he was overdoing it a little.

"Saint Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys." She said, this time rather infuriated. "And you_ will _remember! You will do as we say, boy! You should be grateful for everything we have done for you! Don't forget that your kind does not want to be found out. What was it?_ Statue of Secrecy_?"

Pity, he had hoped his mother's nickname would help. Then again he was rather obvious with his threat. He really needed to learn.

"True, but I will not endanger any of them. I will only tell Aunt Marge that I am learning at a specialized private school, maybe I could show her a school letter? You know, just to show her it's true?"

Now he had done it, Aunt Petunia snapped.

She lashed out, slapping his face.

Harry always had known her to have a short fuse. But this short? Was it a effect of the Horcrux inside him? Hold on, did he _still have_ the Horcrux, or was it fused to him? Another thing to check later.

Dudley stared at his mother with wide eyes, something glistered in them. His fivefold chin hung even more due to his open mouth.

When she had calmed down a little her hand began to shake. Her widened eyes transfixed on the offending appendage. Whereas Harry just drew out the document and a pencil, both hidden in his pocket since he had left his room, placing them on the table. His cheek stung a little, but it was nothing he could not handle. For Merlin's sake, he had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Which still held nothing on what Hermione had gone through, at least in his opinion.

"You should just sign. Leave the rest to me. I will behave, as long as she does." He said rather monotone, sliding both paper and pencil towards her. Her stare wandered from her hand towards the document, nodding still in obvious shock from her rash action.

When her name was finally on the paper he took it and folded it back into his pocket.

"Thank you." He said, stood up and left for his room.  
Where Hedwig and Errol still sat side by side. He shrugged it off, even as their gazes followed his every movement. His beauty always had been one of a kind. He wasn't about to reprimand her for her behavior.

Losing her once, even if he only had seen the memory of that event, was hard enough.

So he sat himself on the bed and did his exercises for a calm mind. Breathing deeply in and out he fell into routine.

He knew what was to come and he still needed to stay here till at least the end of the day. Plus he _so _did _not _need to be reprimanded by Minister Chocolate Ostrich just because he made his 'Aunt' fatter than she already was.

None the less, he packet his stuff after the exercises.  
Now he would be ready to depart at any moment. Giving Errol a little note for Ronald - telling the moron he would be at Diagon and that everything was alright. Hedwig he instructed to stay with Sirius for the time being, even if she stared at him comically. The twosome flew away just when he closed his full trunk.

Few minutes later the sound of wheels on pebble was heard. Car-doors opened and closed, then the bell rang, somebody opened the door and voices filled the hallway. He chuckled lightly in upcoming vengeance.

His Sneakoscope, still placed on his desk - so it was quick to grasp - blinked, twirled and let out tiny whistles.

What a delightful birthday gift.

* * *

**_**~ HP ~ OZ ~**_**

_Ola, me dear Chikorita's!_

__So this is the first installment of the first Arc, next chapter we will meet Sirius again.  
I will mark the beginning of each Arc in the Chapter List. Yes, there was a pun on Madagascar in here.  
The Sneakoscope reacts to Harry's chuckle, as it reacts 'if somebody is doing something untrustworthy nearby'. (HP wikia)  
I still have no idea what the first of October will bring, so I will upload the next chapter at the __fifteenth_ next month_!__

__To me dear ____**Rewievers**__

__Me dear ____**Faery66**____, I hope this was what you had in mind in term of length and reading more.__

__Fluff,  
Berry__


	10. Arc One - Chapter Two

Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"_Hello." = Different Languages_

_'Hello.' = Actual Thinking_

_Hello = Special Words_

**Chapter Two  
Dog day**

_"The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.__"_

_\- Andrew A. Rooney -_

Having stuffed away his Sneakoscope into a lair of socks, Harry tried to make his hair look a little less wild, smoothed out his clothes and then made his way downstairs. Where a shocked Aunt Petunia still sat on her chair and a tomato red Vernon stood beside his sister who was cuddling fat Dudley.

Let's not forget about Ripper who growled at the entering teen. Pesky little bulldog.  
It wasn't as if he did not like dogs, he just couldn't stand Ripper - who had chased him up a three when he was nine. Not the best experience.

"Boy!" Barked Uncle Vernon, making the actual dog look up rather funny. "What did you do?!"

Blinking shortly Harry set a small, pleasant smile on his face, one of those Lucius Malfoy had often worn when in unpleasant company. One could learn a lot from ones enemies.

"I believe, I might have shocked her with my behavior, sir." He answered respectfully, shocking Vernon too. Alas it didn't last long as the woman at his side opened her mouth - great Morgana, she was still waring a thin lady-beard. People did say the dog often resembles the owner.

In this case Harry would say it was the other way round.

"So, you're still here." It wasn't a question, more a statement and Harry was going to rub his tongue with loads of soap for what he said next.

"Of course, Ma'am." _'Ugh, forget this, I am taking the Sonata any day of the week.'_ Repressing a shudder he miraculously kept his smile in place. She lifted her eyebrows at his pleasant tone.

"Don't just say 'of course', be thankful my dear brother took you in." She rasped harshly, then to Uncle Vernon in a not-so-hushed voice. "If they had left him at my doorstep he would have been in an orphanage within the next hour."

An orphanage in these day's would have been better than his Aunt and Uncle.  
But he kept his opinion to himself, still smiling pleasantly. The next hours would be torture. He was so going to get out of here by the end of the day.

And he was right.

Marge kept on insulting him and his parents through the first few hours and wasn't stopping anytime soon.

After some time Petunia had regenerated enough and greeted the human bulldog pleasantly, distracting her for a short while. Sadly she kept on like this, all day long. Harry also kept on his smiling and pleasant demeanor.

Which apparently scared Dudley. Good.

Some time later, around seven, found the four Dursley's in the salon. Meanwhile Harry cooked the dinner.

"Where is he going to school again, Vernon?" She asked, sipping tea, making pearls of it clutch to her thin beard. Her whale of a brother, eating a biscuit munched his answer to her, crumbs landing on his shirt. Harry was disgusted.

"St. Brutus's. A formidable institution for hopeless bubs." Oh, he was going to shove a bub up his uncles ass, alright.

This night was going as he predicted. Horrible. That is, until a whimper interrupted them. It was Ripper, who came running into the dinner prepared salon. A second later he was clawing at a stunned Marge's leg, still whimpering pathetically.

The next moment there was another dog standing in the door-frame.  
This one large and shaggy and black.

Padfood. He was unhealthy thin, but still imposing. Especially with his raging red glowing eyes._ 'What the?'_ A second later found Harry in front of the dog, calming him down. The Bacon in his hand wasn't doing any harm either.

At least to him.

"Sh, Snuffles." He murmured silently, scratching the huge dog behind his ears. "Go, I will be there in an hour." The dog gave him a slobbery lick, then turned tail and left. The old mud obviously had been listening in on the conversations. Spying Hedwig hidden in a tree the teen nodded to her, then turned around to face his relatives. Who were starring at him in shock. Besides Dudley that is, as he was still staring at the television.

"Boy, what was that?" Asked Vernon in an eery tone that promised pain. Sadly for him Harry was done playing nice. He starred back defiantly, eyes glistering in the dimming light of the dusk.

"A dog, uncle. Maybe you need glasses if you have to ask me." With that he pushed up his glasses, using his middle finger. Then he was out of the room faster than his Firebolt and up the stairs before his uncle could react. Quickly grabbing his trunk and Hedwig's cage the teen made his way downstairs, only to be met by his red-faced uncle. Fat fists were everywhere in the air, behind him were Marge and Petunia, looking at the unfolding scene with glee.

"You ungrateful, little-" He was stopped by a thin stick pointing menacingly at his nose, making the whale go cross-eye.

"Love you too. I'm off, this never was my home so don't miss me."

Was the sarcastic quip, then Harry was outside on the darkening street, dragging his heavy trunk after him. Maybe he was a bit fast to leave, but he was sure his _dashing _family wouldn't say anything. Neither would Dumbledore as the two weeks he needed to stay for the wards to work were already done. Then again the geezer probably would, when he found out that his _precious _weapon had run away. Alas the boy-who-just-couldn't-care probably had just broken the wards with his parting words.

They only worked if he saw this place as home, after all.

Walking towards Magnolia Crescend's playground with vigor the teen thought about the possibility of tracking spells that were placed upon him, or the house. Maybe all these funky instruments in the old geezers office were used to spy on him.

Or he was being absurdly paranoid.

Either way, he was going to get to Diagon Alley.

With Snuffles. Who was already waiting for him at the playground, wagging his tail while Hedwig sat on a nearby tree keeping watch. It was a comical, but refreshing sigh to see, as if taken right out of a comic book.

He remembered how it had been the first time, when panic had a grasp on his heart and he just didn't know what to do as he stalked the dark street. In his past he thought he had been stranded in the Muggle world, now he knew how to call the Knight Bus. Ruffling the dog's head, the boy murmured his intention to call the bus in a unobtrusive manner. Barking once the dogfather gave his consent.

So Harry reached for his wand (hidden in his sleeve) and pointed it down the street.

It wouldn't take long for the purple monstrosity to arrive, but the twosome sat in front, or on top, of the heavy trunk to wait. Harry made sure his hair was hiding his scar. When he had first called the bus there had been an incident with Sirius and the conductor, Stanley Shunpike.

He remembered Stan, not too bright a bloke, but decent enough to not tell on him. Stupid as he had been back then Harry had given Neville's full name, not knowing that the Longbottoms were rather famous and many knew the son of two famous Aurors.

Maybe he could do something with the poor bloke. In his future he had been forced to be a Death Eater under Imperius - after being imprisoned in Azkaban. Last the hiding twosome heard Stan had been lynched in the Ministry. Yes, he had never been the brightest candle on the chandelier, but the rioting people (who were sure Stan pulled a Malfoy) had actually _hung _him from the wizards statue in the Ministry.

Yep, the after effects of the war had _not_ been pleasant.

Finally the Knight Bus arrived and Stan greeted him like he did before, only he stopped this time because of Padfoot, starring at the huge, red eyed dog with an open mouth.

"Cool dog", he finally said, after Harry cleared his throat bit obnoxious. Smiling tightly the teen got in, the Animagus right behind him, while poor Stan lifted his heavy trunk up. Without a wand.

Why? Harry had no idea.

"Say, Mr. Stan." Began Harry, unconsciously tilting his head to the side like a curios cat. Once he had the mans attention he continued. "Why don't you use your wand?"

Okay, maybe he was a bit of a teaspoon right there, but how could he have known it was a sensitive topic for the elder teen? Grimacing lightly Stan walked up behind the sleeping driver but instead of knocking he turned back to the boy and his dog while leaning against the glass.

"Wha did ya say ya name was?" He asked back, arms crossed a bit defensive.

"Vernon." Was the quick answer, true it wasn't the best he could come up with, but it was better than giving his name. "Vernon Harris."

"Well Vernon", internally the time travelers both cringed, "I can't use ma wand 'cause ah didn't finish School. Even if ah could, it woulda be foolish to do in a Muggle vicin'."

Harry's eyes widened a bit at that. That was news to him, he made sure to ask Sirius later on. And didn't Stan have a wand when he flew with the Death Eaters the night Harry fled Privet Drive?

"But can't you take your Newt's at the Ministry?" He asked, sure that was the case. Hermione had mentioned something along those lines once or twice. Meanwhile they reached the bed he remembered having on his very first drive.

"Ah could." Admitted Stan, pimply face a bit grim while he stuffed the trunk under Harry's bed. "Bud ah nevah even finished ma Owls eitha, teachas said ah couldn't do nothin' righ'. Ah was only able to work hea because ma 'ead of 'ouse put in a good word foa me."

Harry felt sympathy for the silly male.

Stan had always been a bit naïve and vain, which showed when he had tried to impress a couple of Veela at the World Cup, or when he tried to impress his friends by stating he had knowledge of the Death Eaters. But he was a chatterbox, always on the lookout for more gossip to share. Could they use somebody like that? Probably. Harry decided to make a friend, or rather a connection. A pair of eyes and ears in a public vehicle were better than being blind.

Then again it was a bit risky like this. He decided he would be coming back if he found a proper way to disguise himself. He took eleven Sickles from his purse - which he had kept on himself this time around - and told Stan he wanted to get to the Leaky Cauldron.

The drive there was boring, nothing major happened, aside from Harry asking for the Prophet. And the fact that they had a hard time staying in one spot.

Just like it had been the first time around, the photograph of Sirius starred at him from the front page. The article itself said basic things known about Black that were known publicly. Nothing the pair did not already know. A few stops later, near one o'clock, found the-boy-who-lived and his trusty dogfather in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Stan, after lifting the heavy trunk down to street level with the teens help, was saying his goodbyes.

"See ya 'round Vernon. If ya ever drive with the Knight Bus again, don't ya foaget me." With those parting words the pimple faced male was whiskered away, just like the other occupants of the Knight Bus.

For a short moment it was silent, only the noises of the Londoner nightlife were heard. Then the dog next to the boy threw him a deadpanned, red eyed look that seemed to say 'Really?'. Ignoring that the teen grabbed his trunk and wandered into the Leaky Cauldron, followed by the large hound.

Of course the pair drew a few stares their way.  
Who wouldn't stare when there was a teenage boy with a red eyed Grim look-a-like dog walking into a pub. _'Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.'_ Shot through the teens head, while he made his way up to the barkeeper, Tom. Who looked like the teen remembered him, a near bald toothless walnut.

"Hello, Tom." He greeted friendly, keeping Sirius form behind him, so the elder wizard would not notice the glowing red eyes just now.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron once more." Was the friendly greeting. Harry just smiled back at the old one.

"Tom, I would like a room here for at least a week." Actually till the end of summer, but Harry wanted to wait until after his Gringotts visit to tell the barkeeper.

"Of course", he rummaged behind the counter for a bit until he finally produced a key, "including your breakfast?"

The teen nodded, slid two Galleons over the counter and took the tiny key. It was not long until he was dragging his feather-light charmed trunk up the stairs and to room fifteen (thanks to Tom). Which was large in comparison to his old bedroom with the Dursleys.

Just as he remembered the bed was a shaky four poster, cobwebs graced the corners of the ceiling and a old, wooden desk was across from the bed. Aside from that only a single fragile wardrobe was placed next to the bed. The disillusioned teen put the trunk in front of the bed while the dog sniffed around smelling.

Closing the door (and locking it) Harry turned around to his already changed Godfather.

"You look shitty as hell." Were the first words out of his mouth, but they were true. Sirius was pale, skinny and overgrown with shaggy black hair. At least he now had his original gray-blueish eyes back.

"You look like a shitty little teen." Came the retort - not the best the Black could come up with, but the poor bloke was probably so hungry he could only think 'meat'.

"I will get us a meal", decided the boy, "then we will plan our next moves. Keep hidden until I come back." The older time-traveler nodded and sat himself on the bed, a tired look in his eyes.

"Be right back."

So the teen vanished out the door - which he had opened just a fraction - and got downstairs where he ordered a meal small enough to be for just one person. Including a bowl of soup and a platter of bangers and mash.*

They couldn't plan their next moves on an empty stomach now, could they?

As Harry balanced the tray up the stairway, down the hallway and up to their room he pondered how he would get Sirius into Gringotts. He did not consider himself an infiltration expert, but his illegal trip down to the Vaults was giving him some leverage.

Maybe Harry could take him inside while Sirius was his animagus form, but the teen was pretty sure the Goblins had a spell against that somewhere. And he could not drag the man himself up to the Bank considering how everything and everyone was on the lookout.

Humming in thoughts he knocked on the door in rhythm, then opened up to let himself in.

Pondering about something with an empty stomach wasn't the best idea, so he would talk with his godfather after the meal.

* * *

_* __bangers and mash:__  
mashed potatoes and sausages, which sometimes come with onion gravy or fried onions. Frigging delicious._

**_**~ HP ~ OZ ~**_**

_Ola, me dear Chikorita's!_

__I tried my hand at a written cockney accent for Stan, but failed, so just did simpler things to get the point across. What ya think? Should I keep up with trying the accents or not? Maybe only for those who have strong ones?__

__Will keep the chapters at the ____**15**____**th**____ of ____**each Month**____.__

__To me dear ____**Rewievers**__

__Me dear ____**geetac**____, that in itself is the idea. As it often is with time travel fanfictions it begins with only little difference...__

__Me dear ____**BunyipBudgie**____, it is nice to know that this story has promise in the eye of others :)  
Hopefully you keep up with this story of mine. Thanks for pointing out exactly what is wrong, at least with your comment I can work. Getting a Beta - got a slight trust issue with those, due to other sides where some other story ideas I had been working on were stolen by my last Beta. Not happening again. Once I have found one I can actually work with I may do so, until then I shall work only with me readers. Oh, and I am using Open Office to write my fanfiction. Other than that, I will try to correct the errors from past chapters when I find the time. Writing with dyslexia isn't easy, especially with a language not your own - even if I am only getting better. Your comment made me realize I probably should put a Foreword at the beginning, so everybody will know directly. :)  
__

__fluff__

__~ Berry__


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